Do You Recall
by Evanescence2189
Summary: It was Bobby's fault, really. When she called, it was rarely for help like this. The two men—two hunters—currently occupying her porch were definitely not Bobby Singer…a road trip to gank a witch in Utah before the Summer Solstice was definitely not part of the plan, nor was what happened afterwards. But that's just the thing with hunters…even when you're out, you're in. Dean/OC
1. Anytime

**Summary: It was Bobby's fault, really. When she called, it was rarely for help like this. The two men, two **_**hunters**_**, currently occupying her porch were definitely not Bobby Singer…whatever came after was definitely not part of the plan. D/OC**

**AN: The story title and chapter titles are based on much loved Journey songs, for those of you who are classic rock fans like me! Some you may recognize, others you probably won't. But here's the first chapter of DYR, let me know what you thought.**

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><p><em><strong>Do You Recall<strong>_

_I: Anytime_

It was Bobby's fault, really. When she called, it was rarely for help like this. And when it was, (which was rarer still), he usually came himself. This case in particular was different. It was _personal_, and he knew that.

"What the _hell?_"

The two men, two _hunters_, currently occupying her porch were definitely not Bobby Singer. The slightly shorter one of the two smirked, while the other looked a little taken back by her outburst.

"Nice to see you too, Lena," said the first, the one she recognized. She could see he was a bit uncertain. "…Remember me?"

She came back to herself, shaking her head apologetically.

"I'm sorry. It's just…"

"Bit of a surprise, I know," he said, waving it off. There was a teasing glint in his eyes when he said, "Sorry about that. But I'll understand if you'd rather we hit the road. There's gotta be something to take care of in the next town over…"

Again she shook her head, this time wryly.

"It's good to see you, Dean," she said, offering an amused smile, then shifted her gaze to the man next to him. "Who's this?"

"You don't remember me? I didn't think I'd changed all that much." She focused more on his face, and realization hit her with a pang. This was a far cry from the lanky kid she remembered.

"Sam! It's been…a _while_. Damn, you got _tall_." She laughed, looking up at him. He practically towered over her, and she was relatively average height for a woman. He cracked a smile.

"And you obviously stayed short," he teased. She rolled her eyes and opened the door wide in invitation.

"Har, har. And Dean, if you bring up that _goddamn_ nickname, I will throw you out of my house." She turned away from them to walk back inside, but she could hear Dean laughing behind her.

"Aw, come on—"

"_No._"

Sam sent his brother a questioning look, and Dean's grin promised he would tell him later.

"So Bobby sent you, huh?" They followed her into the kitchen where she grabbed two beers out of the fridge and set them down on the small dining table, gesturing for them to sit.

"He tried to call, but your line was busy," said Sam. "Said to tell you he was in the middle of a hunt that he couldn't leave for another few days. He's getting rid of a vamp nest in Ohio."

"And we were a lot closer than he was," Dean added, taking a swig of beer.

_And they're the only other hunters Bobby trusted to help me_, she mentally finished, which made her feel a little better. Though he could've told her when she called that he'd be sending someone in his stead.

"He _did_ say he was a bit busy, might take him some time to get back to South Dakota," she admitted and grabbed a beer for herself, then turned to Dean as she leaned against the kitchen counter. "How've you been? I haven't heard from you in a couple years…I heard about your dad."

The unspoken condolence was left between them, but Sam and Dean took it for what it was. It took Dean a moment to look up from his beer, but when he did, he shrugged casually. "Been fine, Elena. You know how it is."

She did know, but that wasn't really the point.

"You two are hunting together now?" she asked. Dean had told her his brother was at Stanford, getting a degree. Elena never told Dean back then, but she'd been happy for Sam, that he was pursuing what he wanted.

"For a couple years now. But what about you?" Dean asked with a wry smile. "Last time we talked you were out for good."

She could see this was news to Sam, so she clarified by saying, "I got a real job. I work at the Black Hills Museum of Natural History."

Seeing the look on Dean's face, she added, "It's not as exciting, but it pays for cable TV and hot showers. I take care of the artifacts, make sure they're clean and put in their proper places, and I help do the tours."

"So…you dust off worthless junk," Dead deadpanned. She shot him a glare.

"_Priceless_ junk," she corrected.

Sam's mouth quirked into a half-smile and said, "So if you're out, why are you hunting?"

"I'm not. But my dad is. He usually checks in once a week to tell me where he is, what he's hunting, asks for help on research, stuff like that. He hasn't called in two and a half weeks."

The brothers glanced at one another. They could understand why she would be nervous. Elena went over to a messy work station closer to the living room and brought back a few newspapers she'd been looking through.

"Last time we talked he was in Nevada dealing with a poltergeist. I tried to track that to what he would go for next, and I called Victor Graves, pretty much my dad's only friend. He owns a bar in the town Dad was in."

Dean knew Vick. He wasn't a hunter, but knew plenty of them and passed information where he could. Even gave them their first drink on the house.

"What did Vick have to say?" asked Dean.

"My dad came in, but only said he was heading toward Utah." Elena sighed and pinched between her eyes. She's poured over this stuff until 3:00AM the previous night, right before passing out on the couch. Her day hadn't started much better: a headache from lack of sleep and she'd run out of coffee, making work drag on far longer than it usually felt. Now at 5:30, she was in aching need of a shower and something hot to eat.

"Long day?" asked Sam sympathetically. She gave him a dry look.

"You have no idea. Look, I've got a spare room here and an empty couch that's not too bad to sleep on if you guys want to stay. I'm going to order a couple pizzas then grab a much deserved shower. You two okay with that?"

Sam looked over at his brother. Staying here sounded better than finding cheap motel of the week, and it said something about her trust in Dean that she was offering. He didn't know her as well, and it sounded as if Dean knew her better than he'd let on when they talked in the car.

* * *

><p>"I didn't know Bobby had a niece," said Sam as Aerosmith's "Livin' on the Edge" played for once at a moderate volume on the stereo.<p>

"Her dad is his brother-in-law. You know her, Sammy. Elena," Dean replied, not taking his eyes off the road.

"What? I don't remember…"

"The first time you were about eleven. Maybe twelve. Dad had carted us off to Bobby's for a few days and she was there."

The memory was slowly beginning to surface.

"Oh yeah. I remember you were pissed at Dad for not taking you along. What was it, a wendigo?"

"Yeah."

"Right. She was cool. I remember she beat your ass at cards and kicked the soccer ball around with me." Dean rolled his eyes, but his mouth twitched suspiciously.

"She just wanted to shut you up about being bored."

"Could you blame me? Bobby's house wasn't exactly Disney World," said Sam, "But that doesn't answer why Bobby seemed to think she'd be happy to hear from you."

It took Dean a moment to answer, but eventually he said, "Dad and I went on a couple hunts together with her and her dad, Jack, while you were in college."

Sam waited for him to continue, but when Dean didn't say more, he prodded by asking why.

"The first time we happened to be working the same case in Montana. A rugaru. When that was over we met in a bar, stayed late at night and got jumped by a skinwalker with a grudge against hunters. There ended up being a pack of them we had to take out, and it took a while to find them again after that night in the bar."

Sam contemplated this in silence for a couple minutes. Like usual, his brother was downplaying the story, but as far as he could gather, Elena had become a friend.

"So when was the last time you talked to her?" he asked. Again, Dean's response was delayed, but eventually he said,

"About a month or two before I came to get you from Stanford." Sam looked over at him in mild surprise.

"That's over two years, Dean."

"I've been busy, Sam," Dean said defensively. His life had been problem after problem since John had disappeared on that hunt. They'd finally ganked the demon their dad had been after for twenty years, but what had it left them with? A dead father and Dean with a year to live.

"Besides, she was doing just fine last time I saw her."

Sam left the question as to what she was doing alone for the time being, only because he knew he'd be able to get it out of Dean when he was less prickly.

* * *

><p>Sam and Dean decided to stay the night, with Dean letting his brother take the bed (once he lost at Rock, Paper, Scissors). It was around nine when Dean, with good natured teasing, took up Elena's rather pointed suggestion of the shower being free. It left her and Sam to pick up after the mess of pizza boxes and paper plates.<p>

"So, when did you decide to get a job at a museum, if you don't mind me asking?" Sam said, bringing the cups to the kitchen sink. She raised a brow, but a knowing grin played across her features.

"You mean, how'd I get 'out?' I got tired of my dad snubbing me from the job," she replied honestly. At his confused expression, she explained, "He never wanted me hunting, just wanted me to know what was out there and how to protect myself…especially after my mom passed. I was fourteen, and then it was just me and him."

Elena only told him about her mom so he wouldn't ask. She knew he'd seen the family pictures in the living room with a younger, happier version of her family that included her mother. Plus, she didn't know if he remembered too well the first time they met.

She spent most of high school taking care of herself. Jack would come home for a couple days every other week. She would make him a few good meals before he left again. As a police officer retired early, his pension scarcely covered the bills, but her mother's life insurance covered the rest, along with weekly trips to the grocery store and gas for the beat up Camaro Elena had convinced her dad to keep when he decided to get his truck.

"But by the time I finished I'd already been on quite a few hunts on weekends and holidays. I convinced him to take me with him for real." She'd been tired of being alone. "He finally caved, only if I could keep up with a few online college classes."

He gave her a surprised look.

"You were able to do both?"

"Not very well," she admitted. "But I got my Bachelor of Arts from University of South Dakota in History, focused on Ancient Studies. As it turned out, research was handy with the cases."

It wasn't long after that when she accidentally met up with Dean again for the first time in seven years.

"But if you had that going for you, why would you want to continue hunting?" he asked. She had every right to make a life for herself and get a better paying job, meet someone, do something that made her happy.

"Because my dad wouldn't have a Dean watching his back if I really left him on his own," she said with a sigh. Jack may have wanted better for her, but not enough to quit hunting.

It was easy for Sam to notice the parallels in how they were brought up, but there were also obvious divides in what drove their decisions. It raised the question of how her father had gotten into the job, but with any hunter that was usually a question to avoid in casual conversation. They hardly knew one another, yet she'd already told him far more than he'd asked. Though he realized she knew a fair amount about him and Dean if she knew about him being at Stanford.

"My brother said the two of you went on a couple of hunts with our dads."

Her mouth twitched into a small grin as she finished packing the garbage. He was long done with the dishes, and leaned back against the counter as she fished out a bottle of water from the fridge. She held it up to him in silent offering and he took it.

"That's right," she said, then leaned towards him conspiringly. He played along, wearing an amused grin of his own. "If you tell him this, I promise you misery…"

Here she stage whispered, "He's actually a hell of a lot smarter than he looks."

"Damn straight I am."

Dean's loud voice made the two of them jump, and Elena fixed him with a glare as he strode past her to raid her fridge for another beer.

"Hey! You already got your courtesy beer. Does this look like a bar to you?" He popped the cap open and gave her a cheeky smirk.

"If it were, this wouldn't be free."

"Yeah, because _I_ bought it," she retorted and rolled her eyes. "You haven't changed much, have you?"

But she could see that he had. There was an edge in his eyes and a heaviness set on his shoulders that he hadn't had two years ago. Something had happened, more than just losing his father. But then again, it wasn't _really_ any of her business.

"You love it." He took a long sip of beer, exaggerating his enjoyment.

"Like I love a canker sore." Dean gestured at her with the half-finished bottle in his hand.

"_That's_ disgusting."

"So are _you_," she pointed over to the open duffle bag on her couch. "With your bag of hazardous waste eating through my cushions. Throw those clothes in the washing machine."

"Yes, _mom_," he mocked, but his smirk betrayed him as he went over to the duffle bag.

"How long did you say you two were on the skinwalker hunt?" Sam asked, enjoying the entertainment while it lasted. Before they had to get serious about the matter at hand: finding her father.

"Three weeks or so. They kept moving just when we'd caught their trail, tricky bastards," Elena said.

"Took us what, two states to gank 'em?" said Dean from the other room. He came back with an armload of laundry.

"Yeah, so I'm well acquainted with the sight of _that_," she said, pointing to the wound up ball of clothes. "I'll show you where the laundry room is. Feel free to shower and change too, Sam. You can bring your clothes down when you're done."

"Sounds good, thanks," Sam agreed, and grabbed his backpack from the floor beside the sofa and followed them toward the back of the house. Elena led Dean to the farthest door at the end of the narrow hallway and into a small room that functioned as both a linen closet and a laundry room. They dumped his clothes into the washer and she put a double dose of detergent before starting up the machine. Dean shook his head at her.

"You're so full of shit! It's not that bad," he dismissed.

"More like your nose is desensitized," she muttered and closed the lid, then went over to the closet and pulled out two sets of fresh sheets.

"It's all right, Sam and I can make our own beds," said Dean, reaching for them. Elena evaded his reach.

"No matter how obnoxious, you two are my guests," she said, then amended, "well, not Sam. He's okay."

They went over to the guestroom and Dean helped her strip the bed of the old sheets and put on the new ones.

"Yeah? Wait until you're stuck in the same car with him for hours, especially after Taco Night," Dean countered.

"What's so bad about tacos?"

"He likes bean burritos," he said, nearly shuddering at the memory of the after-smell Sam left in the Impala after Taco Thursday (it used to be Taco Tuesday, but they moved it to Thursdays). "And you complained about my clothes being toxic."

She restrained a laugh at Sam's expense.

"Listen…I know Bobby asked you to come down here, but you didn't have to. So thanks," she said. "I know it's been a while and you probably have other problems to deal with."

Dean paused from fitting a pillow case and stopped her with a look more serious than he'd been all night. She was right. He did have other problems to work out. His demon deal being one and Bela stealing the Colt being another. Not to mention Lilith doing God knows what after the stint she pulled in Colorado. But there was a time when the woman fluffing pillows in front of him had his back, and trusted him to do the same.

"I didn't come just because Bobby asked me to," he said bluntly. "You need help, so I'm here."

After a moment she broke into a smile, ruefully shaking her head. He really hadn't changed all that much.

"Thanks, Dean."

He cracked a small smile too.

"Anytime."


	2. Precious Time

**AN: I was encouraged by the feedback on the first chapter. I honestly didn't think that many people would read, but the traffic stats don't lie! **

**I kind of tweaked the mythology a bit on this chapter to fit the storyline, if anyone decides to look up the creature I mentioned. And since I've never actually been to Cedar City, Utah, after some research I took creative liberties on the landscape/culture of the area, so forgive me if there are any errors there. **

**But the plot is going to pick up from here, so let me know what you thought!**

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><p><em><strong>Do You Recall<strong>_

_II: Precious Time_

Dean called Ash that night and got him on the case of finding Jack Hayes. They'd done as much research as they could, but the morning was already considerably better than the one before with actual breakfast and fresh coffee. The scenario was all too familiar and he hated that, but he guessed it couldn't be helped.

"So Nevada, right?" he said around a mouthful of eggs. She raised a brow at his lack of table manners, but Sam noted she didn't seem surprised.

"Yeah, pretty much at the east border heading toward Utah."

"Do you have the name of the motel he was staying at and the name he was using?" asked Sam. "If Ash doesn't come up with anything solid, we're going to have to take a trip, see if we can follow his trail."

"It's unlikely that Ash won't find anything though," Dean said, seeing her look.

"I'm going to have to take more than a sick day, huh?" she asked wearily.

"Maybe, maybe not." But he wouldn't give her false hope.

"So what do we do in the mean time?"

"All we can really do is wait—" The sound of Dean's phone going off cut off Sam's reply. Dean looked down at the caller ID with a smile, and held it up for them to see before answering it.

"Hey, man. Watcha got?"

* * *

><p>Dean hated driving through Utah for reasons. Most of it was uninhabited, which is only a partial plus (less traffic), but mostly it sucked because it was scorching hot in summer and driving through the desert seemed to take so much longer without at least some scenery.<p>

He could hear Elena fidgeting in the backseat, trying and failing to get into a more comfortable position after nearly seven hours of straight driving. It wasn't new to him, but he knew she'd been working at a steady job driving an hour a day at most, unless she'd visited Bobby when they weren't there.

Sam was dozing in the passenger seat, even as Bachman Turner Overdrive played loudly on the radio.

"He had to get lost in the middle of the goddamn desert," Dean heard her mutter, and he smirked.

"Cedar City," he corrected. She narrowed her eyes at him through the rearview mirror.

"That's just where his credit card trail left off. The GPS on his phone clocked out miles east of the highway," she reminded him. "There's nothing but mountains and desert there, not to mention what the hell he was doing heading out that way."

She stopped herself there. Thinking about the "what ifs" would only wind her up more, and with another six hours to go until they even got to Cedar City, she didn't need more energy to burn.

Elena had to ask for some time off work for a family emergency after she'd already taken Wednesday off as a personal day. But after saying her father had a heart attack, Craig, her boss, was lenient enough to give her the rest of the week and the weekend. Just as long as she came back to work on Monday morning. Her friend Val agreed to split covering her shifts with one of the teenagers that was only working the summer.

"Look, I'm not saying it's going to be easy," he said after a minute. "But we're gunna find him."

_Always so sure of himself_, she thought. But when it came to the hunt, he was only ever blankly honest with what his gut instincts told him. At least that was what she'd gleaned from their brief time working together.

She bit her lower lip absently. The final riffs of "Ain't Seen Nothin' Yet" fill the car, then faded into a familiar intro she knew well.

"_I've had a lot of big dreams"_

"Aw, not this shit," said Dean, raising his hand toward the knob on the stereo. "This is why I rarely listen to the radio."

"_I've made a lot of bad moves"_

"Don't you dare!" Elena propelled herself forward into the front half of the car and smacked his hand away.

"_I know you could walk away, but you never do"_

"Hey, hey! This is _my _car, Shortstop. _I _pick the music," he said, fending her off. "Sit back the fuck down!"

She _hated _that nickname. Inwardly she seethed, but she wouldn't get what she wanted by getting angry over that now.

"Oh, come on, you know you love this—"

"_I've met a lot of cold hearts"_

"Hey, what the hell is goin' on?"

"_I've learned to smile and deceive"_

"She's trying to take over, Sam!" Dean managed, while still trying to bat her hands away from where she was obstinately covering the buttons.

"_I know I'm hard to be around, but you never leave"_

"I just want to listen to this one song! Don't tell me the chorus doesn't make you want to—"

"_I'm not easy to understand"_

"Not in my car, damn it! I didn't think you liked this shit."

"_But you hold out your hand"_

"It's not shit. It's music, you ass! Just let me listen." After a heated ten seconds, Dean begrudgingly relaxed against his seat, staring broodingly out at the road.

"_And you say you love me, just as I am…  
>You always treat me the best that you can"<em>

"This is torture," Dean murmured. She shushed him.

"_You say you __**want**__ me, __**need**__ me,  
><em>_**Love**__ me baby just as I am…just as I am"_

From the rearview mirror he could see her mouthing the words and obnoxiously motioning with her hands. It was sickening 80s pop, in his opinion only slightly more tolerable than any post 1990s pop or 2000s top 40s hits. The longer the song went on, the more he was itching to turn it off (especially after he caught himself tapping to the drum beat and nodding to the guitar riff).

The entire time, Sam glanced at his brother out of the corner of his eye, silently laughing throughout the entire four minutes.

_You just let a chick break house rule number one, dude. _

When Dean looked over he read the thought clearly on Sam's face. He slid his gaze back to the road, pointedly ignoring Sam.

"_You say you __**want**__ me, __**need**__ me,  
><em>_**Love**__ me baby just as I am…  
>Just as I am…"<em>

* * *

><p>"Excuse me. We're trying to meet up with a friend. Do you have records of a Don Henley staying here?" Sam asked the clerk behind the reception desk. It was a cheap motel like any one of the hundreds of sleazy motels they'd stayed at before.<p>

"Let me see…uh, yeah. Room 27. He checked in two weeks ago, paid for up until tomorrow. I haven't seen him come in for a few days, though," said the clerk—Joe, his nametag said. His eyes were red-rimmed, like he'd been doping up just before they walked in.

"How many days are 'a few days,'" Elena asked.

"I dunno, lady. Maybe five. A week," said Joe, who was beginning to get a bit impatient. "Are you going to buy a room?"

She looked over at Dean in exasperation, who nodded at Sam.

"Two rooms, please. One with two twin beds," said Sam, handing the clerk a credit card. He ran it through and got them checked in.

"Well, Happy Days over there was helpful," Dean remarked. He unlocked the door to one of the rooms and looked inside. "This one's ours. Damn, I should have asked if they had a couch. We could've just paid for one room."

"It's okay, Dean, I can pay for my own," Elena said with a smile. She unlocked the door next to theirs, and remarked, "My junk-dusting job _does_ afford me small luxuries."

He smirked but shook his head, "Nah, don't worry about it. We already got it covered. Meet us back out here in ten minutes."

It took her about five to shower and another three to hastily get dressed, but by the time she got back to the hallway they were already jimmying the lock to Room 27. Dean glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

"About time, princess. Stop to repaint your nails?"

The nerve. She didn't even wash her hair before throwing on a fresh t-shirt and a worn pair of jeans.

"Stuff it, ass-hat."

Sam just looked amused, but also like he wanted to shake his head at his brother. He was starting to like Elena.

"Yeah, this is definitely a hunter's room," Dean said when they were inside. The place looked barely touched, save for the gym bag poking out from underneath the bed and the desk, utterly trashed with newspaper clippings, pictures, and other clutter. His laptop was buried underneath it all.

"Yep, this is him all right," said Elena. Even working at the local police station in Hill City, South Dakota, the few times she'd visited his office she remembered his cubicle looking much the same. The way he researched while on hunts wasn't any different, and _that_ she remembered well.

"He was obviously on _something's_ trail," said Sam, noting the red circles on names in Cedar City obituaries. They found article clips of similar deaths—all of them young women recorded as accidental or suicide, all in intervals of twenty-five years, and all in the same city—dating back over a century.

"And on the summer solstice," Elena added. Her eyes were glued to Jack's computer screen, where several tabs had been left open. Her dad had a bad habit of closing the laptop without shutting it down completely, and now more than ever she was thankful for it.

"Electrocution via toaster, strangled by shower curtains, impaling themselves on kitchen knives—this sounds like hexes," said Sam, "Which sounds like witch activity."

"Okay, but why the summer solstice?" asked Dean.

"A summoning ritual," said Elena. She turned the laptop around so both of them could see. "Why do witches always feel the need to raise their masters from their fiery keep?"

"Looks like they were trying to raise one powerful mother," said Dean, glancing through the several tabs open on the screen. "The murders were sacrifices…one ingredient in a long list we don't have."

"Are you sure that's all it is?" asked Sam. "If they were able to raise a demon, then why keep doing it every twenty-five years?"

"Maybe it didn't work," Elena suggested after a moment, "Maybe something didn't take. With something that powerful you probably only get one shot, right?"

"Yeah, but how many murders do we have here? Five. They'd have to be the stupidest witch I've ever seen," Dean remarked. "When is the summer solstice anyway?"

"It happens twice a year, but in the northern hemisphere it's usually between June 20 and June 22," said Sam. Dean gave him a peeved look.

"How the fuck do you _know _that?" Sam opened his mouth to answer, but Dean cut him off. "Forget it. 'S not worth it."

Sam smirked and looked down at the ancient book he'd found in Jack's duffel bag, even as he heard Dean mutter, "_Nerd._"

"Heard that."

"Shut up."

"This year it's on the twentieth," Elena interrupted, the small smirk on her face betraying her amusement.

"And it'll be the nineteenth in," Dean checked his watch, "three hours."

There was a brief moment of silence as each of them took in the new information.

"So my dad was after this witch to stop her from murdering another woman, and from summoning what we assume is a badass demon," Elena began, "but how did he know to go after them? There hasn't been a death that fit the pattern in this town since 1982. And why wouldn't he tell me he was after one?"

"Something about that bothers me, besides the obvious," said Sam. "Why do they have to be women? Something tells me that's a specific part."

"You concentrate on that," said Dean. Something about the timeline didn't feel quite right. "Elena, go ahead and call Vick again."

She shot him a confused look.

"Why? He already said he only knew Dad was heading to Utah, nothing about what he was hunting."

"I know, and I know Vick. I just want to talk to him."

She gave him a look that said she didn't understand what he was getting at, but she picked up her cell phone and scrolled through her contacts.

"Vick? Hey, it's Elena. Yeah, I'm in Utah trying to find him. With the Winchesters." Elena pulled a face, as if she couldn't believe what the man on the other line was saying. "Well, what did you expect? He's been missing for two weeks! Look, if he told you _anything_, you have to tell me _right now_."

Dean had enough of the ride around he was sure Victor Graves was giving her.

"Give me the phone, Lena." She gave him a look, but put Vick on hold to pass the phone to Dean.

"Graves? It's Dean Winchester."

"_Winchester? Look, I already told her all I know."_

"I think we both know that's not true," said Dean. He glanced over at Elena, who had joined Sam at the other side of the room to help him research the spell. He lowered his voice and continued, "Look, whatever Jack told you about keeping Elena away from this hunt, doesn't mean shit now. My brother and I've got her back. If you don't tell me what we're up against, we might not be able to bring him back alive."

There was a pause on the other line, but eventually he heard a heavy sigh.

"_He didn't want to worry her into coming to help him."_

"Tell me."

* * *

><p>"Apparently some guy came into Vick's bar while he and Jack were talking, out of it and a shaky on his feet. Tossed back three shots before he told them a story about how he was running away from his home town, eventually got it out of him that something evil had killed his wife twenty-five years ago, and he knew it would be back," Dean recounted the story as concisely as he could. They didn't have a whole lot of time to be sitting around. In fact, they had little more than twenty-four hours to find Jack Hayes and gank a witch.<p>

"He was jumping states with his daughter because didn't want it to take her next."

"Did he say what killed his wife?" Sam asked.

"He didn't really know what it was, besides what looked like a regular guy, but he saw it and described it. Turns out the witch is actually a warlock, if you want to get technical," said Dean. "He's trying to raise some nasty fucker called an aswang. Bitchin' name."

He said the name as if it were some wacked out medical disease someone could barely pronounce, but Sam's eyes widened in recognition.

"You know what that is?" Elena asked him. Sam took out his own laptop from his backpack and ran a quick search, coming up with a grotesque creature that looked vaguely like a wendigo if it had fangs and large wings.

"An aswang eats both the dead and the living, but prefers children and unborn fetuses," Sam skimmed the page. "They have a lot of power through touch, mostly to read the thoughts of who they come in contact with. They're mostly like demons in that they can choose to possess someone, usually young women, and have some of the same weaknesses, like holy water."

"Does it say how you kill it?" Dean asked.

"Most folklore says silver, or you can banish them back to hell. A regular exorcism won't work, though."

"The question is why a witch—or warlock, wants to summon one," said Elena. "What's in it for them?"

"The power to control it, maybe. Use it on an enemy," Sam said. "Witches that get to be old enough can get pretty creative when it comes to revenge."

"Pretty sick way of getting your kicks," Dean muttered. "But the good news is, we have a name on our mystery witch."

* * *

><p>"I haven't seen much of Nick lately. He seems to have a lot on his plate."<p>

"Oh, well, that's too bad. We haven't seen him in a while and thought we would drop by…it _is_ that house across the street, right?" Dean asked. The elderly woman smiled.

"Yes, that's it. He's probably at work by now, but if you're sure you lost his number he should be back in the afternoon," she said. "I didn't know he had any family nearby."

"Well, we're driving from Nevada over to our parents' house in Salt Lake City," Dean made up on the fly. "Just wanted to stop by on the way and see if our brother wanted to come with us."

"We'll probably get some lunch and come back later," Sam added. "Thanks for your time. We didn't mean to distract you from your cleaning."

"Oh, it's no bother," she said, waving off his apology. "Those mothballs under the couch were making me sneeze like crazy. But I hope you find him."

"Thanks, ma'am," said Dean, and stepped off the porch when the woman closed the front door behind her. The three walked back to the Impala with no intention of leaving to get lunch.

"That's the annoying thing about small towns," said Sam. "Everyone knows everyone—their schedule, their business…"

"Good thing for us though," said Elena. They got into the car, but Dean parked it a street over just in case Margaret, the neighbor they just spoke to, decided to look outside through her window. It didn't take long for Dean to pick the front door lock after making sure Nickolas Greenwood was actually away. Though Elena found her dad's truck parked behind the house with all of his weapons missing.

The inside of the house was immaculate. Nice furniture and sophisticated looking, but definitely belonging to a bachelor. They searched the house and didn't find anyone inside, and Sam hit the jackpot with the usual witchery paraphernalia in Nick's rather large walk-in closet.

"He works at an insurance agency," Elena said as she flipped through the man's mail. "Life insurance. The irony."

"Find out the building's hours," said Dean. He was helping Sam sort through the various ingredients in the closet. Sam found an ancient book that was dog-eared on a page that detailed the summoning spell in depth.

"This stuff is just for hex bags. This obviously isn't where he puts together his more intricate spells," said Sam. "There's no basement in this place, so I don't see where it would be."

"Maybe that's why the GPS signal on Jack's phone died about a mile out from Greens Lake Drive. It's nothing but rocks and hills out there," Dean suggested. "Maybe he has a shed or a cave somewhere."

"A cave, Dean?" Sam asked with a slight grin.

"Whatever, man. Somethin'."

"Okay. Let's say he has a secret cave in the hills somewhere. We have no idea where it is," said Sam. "But we do know he'll probably go there tonight. Timing is everything with this spell. It needs to be done on the day of the summer solstice, but before dawn. That's only about a five-hour gap."

"So we follow him," Dean clarified.

"Yep."

"First he needs a sacrifice…unless he already abducted a woman," said Elena. That gave her chills, because it was obvious now that he had taken her dad, had probably interrogated him for answers…

But she pushed that train of thought away to keep her mind focused on the case. It was strange being back on a hunt again, but it was familiar and she more or less enjoyed the feel of it, thoughts of finding her dad aside. They had already lied to get Greenwood's exact address, based on the information Vick gave Dean on what the poor man who'd lived in this city said.

Now they were breaking into a witch's house.

She never quite forgot the excitement of this job.

"Where did you say he works?" asked Dean.

"About a five minute drive from here, but he doesn't get off until five," she replied. Dean considered this, then said,

"Okay. Let's actually grab some lunch, though, 'cause I'm starved and we got time to kill."

Elena sighed and checked the GPS on her phone for the nearest diner.

* * *

><p><strong>Bachman Turner Overdrive – "Ain't Seen Nothin' Yet"<strong>

**Air Supply – "Just as I Am" **

**Don Henley – lead vocalist and a founding member of The Eagles from 1971 – 1980 when the band broke up, and from 1994 to the present when they reformed. He also had a very popular solo album called **_**I Can't Stand Still **_**in '82.**

**Happy Days: TV sitcom from 1974 – 1984 on ABC.**


	3. Dead or Alive

**AN: Sorry if there wasn't as much Sam in this chapter. But there's a couple twists and turns here; let me know what you thought! ;)**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Do You Recall<strong>_

_III: Dead or Alive _

"One bacon cheeseburger with fries, BLT with coleslaw, and a turkey Panini with onion rings," the waitress rattled off as she set down each plate. "You guys need anything else?"

"Nah, we're good," Dean said to the brunette with a wink. She gave him a smile that showed her dimples and walked away. Sam, far used to this by now, just tucked into his sandwich after dumping a few forkfuls of coleslaw between the bacon and the top bun of his BLT.

"I forgot you did that," said Elena, squeezing a packet of mayo onto her Panini bun.

"What?" Dean asked innocently. She raised a brow at him and took a bite of her sandwich.

"Chase every skirt within a five-mile radius." Sam coughed and had to take a long sip of his drink to flush down the food that caught in his throat.

"I resent that," Dean said around a mouthful of burger. She couldn't quite keep the disgust from her expression.

"I'm sure you do," she said.

"What, is it illegal to talk to beautiful women?"

"No, Dean, but you're intentions aren't exactly subtle."

"My intentions?" Dean repeated in a tone that suggested he didn't understand her meaning, but in actuality he was a bit annoyed. So he flirted casually, what was the big deal? They were on a hunt. He wasn't looking for a lay right this second. But he was a man. If after this was over, a pretty woman offered or agreed to go home with him, that was her own prerogative.

"Dean," she said with a tired smile, "Forget it."

"Why, Elena? If you're trying to tell me something, by all means," he said, gesturing widely with one hand while the other held his burger.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? It's none of my business," she said when she noticed how touchy he was becoming.

"Damn right, it's none of your business," he said, and popped a fry into his mouth. She leaned away, taken aback.

"Hey, I said I was sorry, all right? No need to give me the third degree."

"Just eat your sandwich."

"Just tell me what your problem is. Why are you so pissy all of a sudden?"

"Guys," Sam interjected, his tone placating, "This isn't really the time for—"

"For what, Sam? We're having a conversation," said Dean. His nonchalance was beginning to grate on Elena's nerves, and Sam noticed.

"No, you're having a hissy fit. I was just joking," she said. Dean gave her a long look.

"Cut the bullshit, all right. You were saying I'm a skirt-chasing pig. So go ahead, continue."

"I _wasn't_," she said defensively. "I just mean you're a flirt, that's all."

"Right," he scoffed. What right did she have to judge him? After everything he'd put into this job, everything he gave up and lost, he wasn't allowed to do what he wanted in his last days?

And then he paused.

"You know what?" she said, dropping her sandwich onto the plate in front of her, "I'll be back. Gotta go powder my nose."

The sarcasm was evident in her voice, and inwardly Dean sighed. Sam measured his brother with a look Dean knew all too well.

"Dean."

"I know, Sam."

Sam didn't have to say anything; his bitchface said it for him. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Stop staring at me."

Sam knew Elena could have been more tactful, but she didn't deserve to be driven away from the table before she finished her food.

"She doesn't know about the deal, Dean." And there it was—the reason for his less than responsible behavior during the past few months. Leave it to his brother to voice his thoughts.

"I know."

"You gunna go talk to her, or what?" Dean gave him a deadpan look. Sometimes, Sam could be a real pain in the ass.

"Shut up."

Sam smiled to himself and pretended not to watch his brother take the walk of shame.

* * *

><p>Unsurprisingly, he didn't find her by the bathroom. She was standing by the old-fashioned juke box in the corner, flipping through each song absently. He knew she noticed him come up behind her, but she didn't acknowledge him. Instead she fished fifty cents out of the wallet in the back pocket of her jeans and pressed a button. Soon, the strains of familiar power chords filled the small diner.<p>

"_I've made a lot of bad moves"_

It took all he had not to laugh when she turned around with a knowing smirk.

"_I know you could walk away, but you never do"_

"Just admit that you liked it."

He looked down for a moment, not quite being able to fight a smile. When he looked up he was straight-faced, save for the way his eyes were dancing.

"Don't tell Sam."

"Deal."

* * *

><p>They did return to Sam at their table, allowing everyone to finish eating in peace without reference to the past ten minutes. But considering they had another five hours to wait, Sam made his way over to the bar to order them some drinks. Just one each though. It wouldn't do well to get shitfaced on the job, especially one this important.<p>

"So tell me something," Elena began, reaching across the table to steal one of Dean's leftover fries. "How did you know Vick was holding back from me?"

"What do you mean?" Dean hedged, and he was almost successful in coming off honest.

"It was like your Spidey-sense was tingling or something," she said around a mouthful of fry, "My dad's known him for years, why would he lie to me?"

"That's kind of the problem."

"How do you mean?"

Dean toyed with the straw in his glass of coke for a moment before answering, this time sincerely.

"I remember what your dad was like. Rode your ass pretty hard, right?"

She scoffed in agreement.

"Never wanted you at the flashpoint of anything, and I understood that. You were still kinda new to the job and he was trying to keep you safe…but if you were going to be a part of the hunt, you have to survive the hard shit," said Dean. Elena stared at him pensively.

"That's pretty much what John said to my dad about it," she said. "I think it was the only reason he let me on the skinwalker chase."

Dean didn't say anything, but his expression told her he already knew that.

"But what does that have to do with now?"

"He might've told Vick not to say anything, so you wouldn't up and follow him," said Dean. Her brows furrowed as he watched her take that in, then contain the following anger it caused.

Then Sam came back with much needed beers, and they had that to occupy the next half an hour.

"I called Bobby last night," said Elena.

"What'd he say?"

"That he should be able to come down tomorrow, and that's if he catches a plane," she said flatly. "Which he probably won't." Clearly she was disappointed, but she tried to pass it off with good-natured sarcasm.

"You told him not to bother, didn't you?" Dean asked knowingly.

"No, but I did tell him the situation. He said he would try to get here as fast as he could."

"Well, it's just us then. But we're used to that," said Sam.

"It's just the endless fucking waiting," Elena said in aggravation, then lowered her voice. "Are we seriously going to sit here all afternoon while my dad is out there? He could be God knows where. Hurt, or…"

She pursed her lips and sat back against her chair, ran a hand through her dark hair.

"Just relax, okay. I know you're frustrated. _Believe_ me, I know how this is," said Sam. "But we're going to find him tonight, no doubt about it. We just need to be patient for a little while longer."

She knew that.

But Patience was a bitch, and Time could go fuck itself.

* * *

><p>It was nearly 4:30 when Dean finally agreed to drive by the building where Greenwood worked. It was another hour when the man in question (or at least, who they believed to be based on Vick's descriptions) walked out to his car, swinging his keys around his finger. He wasn't a particularly tall man, but even at their safe distance away, Dean noted the superior way he carried himself as he walked. Physically he was fit, tan and sporting an almost casual business suit and stylish sunglasses.<p>

"This guy already looks like a dick," Dean muttered, but followed the car at a sedate pace, careful not to get too close. They hadn't been driving five minutes when Greenwood pulled into an unfamiliar neighborhood and stopped in front of a small, yellow house. Dean parked a couple streets over, as usual.

"You think this is it?" he asked. "What happened to a cabin in the woods?"

"I don't know. You wanna wait?" said Sam.

"Not really, but you think it's smart to go in now?"

"We technically have the advantage of surprise," Elena pointed out. "And a statistical advantage of three on one."

"Yeah, but he's a witch, so you can't really count that," said Dean. "What _will_ work is a bullet he doesn't see coming."

"So we're going in then," said Sam.

"Yeah, let's get the stuff from the trunk."

Elena whistled lowly when Dean unlocked the arsenal.

"I forgot about this," she said.

"Got all the party favors," he said with a grin and held out a gun for her. He hadn't seen one on her earlier and she hadn't taken one out of her bag. "Here's an extra if you need it."

"It's all right," she said. "I'm not big on guns, remember?"

Sam looked over at her with thinly veiled incredulity, while Dean nodded at the memory. She hadn't told him why, but he remembered her being adamant against touching one unless she had to.

"What?" Sam asked in confusion.

Elena opened her jacket that held two silver knives. Both brothers raised their brows, but neither commented.

The two grabbed knives and guns and loaded them with silver bullets, just to be safe. Normal bullets would kill a witch, but not an aswang.

Once in front of the house, Dean motioned for Sam to find a backdoor entrance while he and Elena took the front. On the silent count of three, Dean burst through the door with Elena hot on his heels. The last he saw was Greenwood standing in the living room, palms outstretched, before his vision faded and nothing else mattered.

* * *

><p>Dean blearily woke, groaned at the pain in his head shooting between his eyes. At first he thought something was wrong with them, but then his vision focused more and he realized he was in relative darkness. There were fire-lit torches hanging on the walls that helped illuminate the room, and it looked like the inside of a cave.<p>

_Told you, Sammy._

And then he looked around. He didn't find Sam, but Elena was sitting slumped against the wall next to him with her hands and feet tied with thick rope, like Dean was.

"Lena." She stirred a bit after he said her name a little more persistently. She blinked, frowning down at her tied self before looking over at him.

"Where the hell are we?" she asked.

"Good question," said Dean. But he paused as he saw Elena's eyes widen, filling with hope. He followed her gaze to his left, where a hunched figure leaned against the wall.

"Dad?" she choked out. The man was a mess. Bruises on his face and tattered clothes, and blood streaming from a cut on his hairline and above his left brow.

"_Dad,_" she called more earnestly. With a little difficulty, he raised his head. His gaze met hers and widened in surprise.

"Elena?"

"Hey, Dad," she said with a shaky smile. Jack looked over at Dean, who nodded at him in greeting, then back to his daughter.

"What…what are you doing here?" he asked, then turned to Dean. "Did you bring her here?"

Dean gave him an incredulous look, but Elena beat him to it.

"What the hell are you talking about?" she exclaimed, voicing Dean's thoughts. "We're here because you didn't call in two weeks. Of course I was going to check if something was wrong!"

"You shouldn't have come," he said with a sigh, slowly shaking his head. "…You don't understand—"

"Oh good, you're all awake," said Greenwood, who finally made his appearance. He was still in the suit, and in Dean's opinion, looked like more of a dick up close. "We've been hanging out here, Jack and me. Just chatting."

"What is this, your Batcave?" Dean quipped. "Where the hell are we?"

"Somewhere secluded a couple miles east of the highway. But you knew that already, didn't you?" said Greenwood. He stood in the middle of the sparsely furnished room with his arms crossed.

"I usually prefer dinner before a man takes me back to his place," Elena sassed. Greenwood raised an amused brow at her.

"Yes, well, do excuse me. I don't believe we've properly met. Maybe that's because you so rudely broke into my girlfriend's apartment and tried to kill me." He gestured behind him with a sweep of his hand, and Elena's eyes widened.

A young woman was tied up similarly to them, unconscious.

"Um…is it just me, or…" Elena trailed, and looked over at Dean. He looked just as weirded out as she was.

She looked slender, fair in complexion with long black hair framing a pretty face.

It was as if a shapeshifter had copied Elena.

But on further inspection, there were a few differences. Even sitting down, she could see this woman was taller with longer legs, and Elena's hair was not as dark, just on the side of brunette.

"Um, if she's your girlfriend, why's she tied up and knocked out?" she asked flatly. Greenwood smiled.

"Well, obviously she's not my _real _girlfriend. But Rachel here is just what I need: feisty, though you can't really tell right now, resilient, and nearly the spitting image."

"Of who?" asked Dean.

"My Mirah, of course," said Greenwood, with a grandiose gesture of his hands, as if they were supposed to know exactly who he was talking about. After a second, Dean's eyes grew wide.

"You've gotta be kidding me," he deadpanned. "You're summoning a _demon._"

"Not exactly a demon," said Jack. "Kind of a demon's cousin."

"Who happens to be his undead lover," Elena remarked. "How sickeningly Twilight."

"If that's true, then why'd it take you five tries to summon her?" Dean asked. Greenwood let out a longsuffering sigh.

"I couldn't find the right host. All of their hearts gave out," he said. "Not resilient enough. And this spell is so _particular_."

Which is why he had to wait twenty-five years to try again. It sounded like this had been a longtime frustration for him.

"So you made them look like suicide, or accidental," Elena surmised.

"Hmm, yes. I'm glad we got all that cleared up, but I have a few things to do before midnight rolls around in," Greenwood checked his watch, "Half an hour. But you all can amuse yourselves in the meantime."

He began walking away, but then turned back as if suddenly remembering something.

"And, um…don't bother trying to get out of those bonds. Magically sealed and all that," he added. "And you're bound to where you sit. But don't worry! I'll be right back."

"Asshole," Dean muttered when the witch finally left the room.

"No kidding," said Elena, but then she pinned Dean with a sharp look. "You knew, didn't you? About the witch wanting a host that fits nearly my exact physical description, thing. And you didn't tell me."

"No, I didn't know," Dean said honestly, but now he felt like an ass now knowing why Jack was glaring at him.

"Are you two happy?" asked Jack in frustration. "Now if he needs a spare sacrifice, he _has_ one."

"Listen, if you would have just told me what was going on, we wouldn't be in this mess," she said, and met her father's glare with her own.

"You and I both know that wouldn't have made a difference," he said sourly. "If anything, it would have gotten you here faster."

"And maybe if I had, we would've had more time to plan a rescue."

"You're too fucking stubborn for your own good, you know that?"

"Right back at you, _Dad_," she spat. "You know, I'm sick and tired of you trying to control my life while pushing me away at the same time. I'm not a little girl who needs her hand held!"

"That may be true," said Jack, "but like it or not, you're not cut out to be a hunter."

Elena's eyes widened, and she wasn't quite able to mask the hurt quick enough. Dean saw that look, and glared at Jack.

"You've got the skill, even the head for it," Jack clarified, and stared at his daughter with stone-cold sincerity. "But you don't have the stomach for it."

"…If that's true, maybe I'm better off," Elena said evenly. "I'd hate to end up like you."

Jack pursed his lips, his jaw clenching in anger.

"Look, _stop it_, all right?" Dean said firmly, his voice boding no argument. "We need to concentrate here. I don't know where Sam is, but we've only got a little bit of time to figure out what we're going to do."

* * *

><p>Sam had reached the back of the house, but turned quick when he heard his brother's shout of alarm. Around the corner he saw a flash of white, and cautiously made his way toward the side window. The curtains were peeled back enough so he could see into the living room. It was a small, but homely place with frames on the walls and, among other furnishings, shelves and a couch. A young woman lay unconscious on it, her arm hanging off the side.<p>

On the verge of what he could see, Sam saw his brother and Elena on the floor, also unconscious, with a man staring down at them pensively. And then, with a flick of his hand, their bodies raised from the ground and floated through the front door, followed closely by who Sam could pretty much assume was Greenwood.

He silently retraced his steps to the back of the house and watched from a safe distance as Greenwood packed the two hunters and the woman into an SUV, first tying their hands and feet together before shutting the doors and climbing into the driver's side himself.

Sam sighed.

Dean would kill him for hot-wiring the Impala, but without the keys, he was shit out of luck.

* * *

><p>"W-What…what am I doing here?" croaked a scared voice. The three of them turned to the young woman, now awake, but wide-eyed and confused. "What the hell?"<p>

"You're Rachel, right?" Elena asked gently. The other woman nodded.

"Nick…he knocked me out," she said, tears welling in her eyes. "Where are we?"

"We're somewhere east of the city," said Dean, "Don't worry though. We're getting out of here."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that," said an annoyingly familiar voice. When Greenwood stepped out from a doorway back into the room, he was met by four similar glares. "Wow, tough room."

"You're a sick bastard!" Rachel shouted and stood up as well as she could with her ankles tied together, but was unable to move forward more than a step before an invisible force stopped her. Her face was the picture of utter confusion as desperate tears began to stream down her face.

"Yeah, yeah. Sit down and shut up." With a wave of a hand Rachel was forcibly sat on the ground against the far wall. She still glared at him angrily, but gave up on shouting expletives.

In his hands he held two bowls filled with ingredients that he began strategically placing in the center of the room. Dean recognized most of it as seriously bad hoodoo. Eventually, Greenwood stopped to admire his handiwork, then looked down at his watch.

Midnight.

"Right on time." He turned behind him to grin at Rachel. "Your turn to shine, sweetheart."

"Don't!" Dean shouted, but Greenwood ignored him completely. He dragged Rachel, literally kicking and screaming to the center of the room and forced her into a kneeling position.

_Where the hell are you, Sammy? _Dean thought furiously.

* * *

><p>"Goddamn it!"<p>

Sam slapped the wheel in frustration. That was the third SUV that disappeared right before his eyes, just as he was getting close to it. The witch had placed trigger-spells on his trigger-spells to make sure he wasn't being followed, which meant Sam was already halfway out of the city going north, and now no closer to finding his brother.

Unless…

_Shit…I'm an idiot. _

He stopped on the side of the road and pulled out his phone, and after dialing in a couple different codes, he successfully activated a GPS map and location of where Dean's phone was heading.

Fifteen minutes southwest.

Sam sighed, locked the car into drive, and pulled an immediate u-turn.

* * *

><p>Greenwood stretched out his hand and began the incantation in Latin, and the farther he got the more Rachel began to shake. Her tears fell and dried, and then her eyes opened wide as Greenwood's voice grew louder. From the contents of the bowl, now ash as a result of the spell, rose a plume of red smoke. It coiled through the air for a moment until entering Rachel's mouth.<p>

She slumped forward and Greenwood caught her, removing the magic seal on her binds then ripping them off with a knife. He cupped Rachel's face in his hands and brushed the hair away from her face. After a few seconds, her eyes slid open, her mouth curving into a soft smile.

"My love?" Greenwood whispered reverently. Her hand came to rest over his left.

"Yes." Already her voice was different from the scared young woman she was before. It was deeper, calculated and smooth as silk. "You've saved me."

"Did you ever doubt that I would?" Greenwood said with a tender smile. "My Mirah." Dean rolled his eyes as the two shared a passionate kiss. This was why he steered clear of soap operas and chick flicks.

"Ugh, if you're gunna use tongue get your own room," he said, attracting the monster's attention. For that was what it was now. Rachel may still be buried down there, but Sam was the one who had the copy of the banishing recitation.

"And who is this?" Her voice was as velvet smooth as her movements as she rose to a stand with Greenwood unnecessarily assisting her. Her eyes fell on each captive. "Are these for me?"

"Dean Winchester, according to his wallet," said her lover. Dean glared. "And yes, if you want them."

"You took my weapons _and _pickpocketed me?"

"Winchester," Mirah said pensively. "I know that name."

After a moment, a slow smile graced her features.

"Ah…I remember now. Your dad is a famous one in the pit."

Dean stiffened, but outwardly didn't allow himself to react to her words.

"Yes, you're the family that tried so hard to kill Azazel," she said. "Too bad it didn't quite work out like you hoped, huh?"

Dean remained silent, but his cold look spoke for itself.

"Hmm, I don't have to read you to know about your little family hardships. Practically every demon in hell knows about the Winchesters," she said, a mischievous glint in her eye. "But then again, I'm not _really_ considered part of the family."

"Why's that, if you're supposed to be so special," Jack interrupted. It was his attempt to stall for time; the creature's entertainment wouldn't last much longer when she got hungry.

Mirah glanced over at Jack with what was at first disinterest, but the more she looked at him, curiosity grew in her features.

"My, my. You look half dead already." She sent Greenwood an amused glance. He shrugged.

"I was bored," he said casually. "He thought he could sneak up on me."

Mirah sighed, then finally addressed Jack's question.

"If you must know, my kind are of demons. The name your language gave us is…strange and tacky, if you ask me. But your folklore has most of its facts correct," she said absently.

"Sounds like you're just B-list entertainment for Hell," Elena interjected. Jack sent her a warning look, but it was too late.

"Well, you're rude," said Mirah, her mouth curving in a smirk. "Was this supposed to be an alternate vessel, Nickolas?"

"No. She came along with that one," said Greenwood, gesturing over at Dean. Mirah drew nearer to Elena with an inquisitive gaze.

"Hmm, I like the body I have on better. It's taller, more athletic. This one is paler." Sharp blue eyes met piercing gray.

"What, shopping for eyes?" Elena snapped. Mirah's smirk deepened.

"Sure, want to trade?" She grabbed Elena's face with one hand, nails biting into her cheeks. "Or I can just take them."

"_Stay away from her!_"

Mirah tilted her head to the side and gave Jack a cursory glance. She turned back to Elena, and something clicked in her mind.

"Ah, I see we have a family reunion here." She looked over at Jack. "Was this supposed to be your rescue party?"

Jack's furious glare was answer enough. To both his and Dean's relief, she let go of Elena and backed away slightly.

"And what are you?" she asked Dean.

"What's it matter to you?"

"Wait, wait…don't you have a brother?"

"He didn't come."

"I highly doubt that."

"Believe what you want, but I left him five states over."

"If he's here, we won't have to worry about him. I spelled my truck," Greenwood chimed in. "Gave whoever tried to tail me something to keep them going for a while."

Dean only barely reacted, but Mirah caught it and laughed.

"It's adorable sometimes, humanity."

"Shouldn't you take offence to that?" Elena asked Greenwood, who so far had done nothing but stand leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

"Why should I? It's not me she's referring to."

Mirah looked over at Elena, something passing through her expression that Elena couldn't name.

"You're a curious one."

"Must be my magnetic charm," she quipped.

"More like an inflated sense of self."

"Oh bite me," Elena said with a roll of her eyes. At a speed she couldn't follow, Mirah appeared crouched in front of her, wearing a smirk that curved wickedly.

"This won't hurt much."

She gripped Elena's face firmly under her chin toward her jaw line, and both their eyes closed as the creature stole the information she sought. The force of the invasion took Elena by surprise, but Mirah's grip kept her from being able to struggle much. Elena wanted to shudder at the feeling of inky claws probing through her mind, and a small, strangled whimper escaped her at the strain of it. Distantly she thought she heard her father's angry shouting, and while Mirah ignored him, after a few seconds she let go and stepped back. There's was a contemptuous smile on her face when she looked down at Elena.

Mirah shuddered slightly. "It's like swimming through mud in there."

Elena was still trying to breathe easier, but she managed out, "No one asked you to come barging in, fucking _bitch_."

"You okay?" Dean asked, and she saw the concern in his eyes, as well as Jack's.

"M' fine." Mirah laughed at that.

"Oh, my dear. That's actually almost funny," she said, and crouched in front of Elena, peering deeply into her eyes. She spoke softly, but her voice was ice and poison. "I see now. I see a small, _pathetic _child, still clinging to a shadow of a memory of a happy life. Of a _family_. But we both know that ended a long time ago. When you killed Jamie."

Elena froze.

"…You bitch," Jack cursed lowly, leaving Dean to stare at Elena in confusion. He saw the way her expression remained blank, other than her jaw clenching and her eyes turning hard, versus Mirah's devious smirk. It was almost like looking at a dual reflection, with one side fractured and wrong.

"Don't tell me you don't remember," Mirah cooed, and wrapped a strand of Elena's hair around her finger. "No one likes a liar."

"That's not what happened," Elena said, the tremor in her voice the true indication of how the creature's words were affecting her. Mirah smiled in response and let the coil of hair fall against Elena's cheek.

"Let it happen. Pull the trigger." She straightened and stepped away with a shrug. "Same thing."

"That's _**not**_ what happened." Mirah spun on her heel and gave a cold sneer.

"Then what _**did**_ happen?"

Elena's eyes grew distant, haunted. Dean felt helpless. _Where the hell was Sam?_

"Lena," he called, but if she heard him she didn't acknowledge him.

"It was an accident," she said coarsely.

"You were supposed to be watching him," the creature pointed out, and crossed her arms.

"It was only three minutes—"

"Three minutes too many," Mirah taunted. "Enough for him to find Daddy's gun and give it a whirl."

Dean watched as frustrated tears spilled down Elena's cheeks, and he looked over at Jack, who he thought was being too damn quiet. He was almost angry at the man for not even trying to stick up for his daughter, but his eyes were clouded with an old pain, and guilt.

_Which explains her thing about guns_, he thought.

Dean didn't have the time to think about that, though, and bristled when the creature grabbed a fistful of Elena's hair and yanked her head back against the wall, ignoring the grunt of pain it elicited from her.

"_You_ were the older sister, Lena," she reminded. "_You_ were supposed to protect him, watch out for him, _save_ him."

"…I tried," Elena said, her voice cracking. The tears fell freely now, but she refused to give into the hopelessness she felt. Sam was still out there somewhere. There was still time for him to find them.

"Don't you see?" Mirah shook her head. "_Try_ isn't good enough. It's weak, and always too, too late…right, Dean?"

Now he _really_ wanted to stab this bitch in the face.

"Go fuck yourself."

"Ooh, testy," she teased. "But the truth is, you know all about that don't you? It wasn't enough that you failed your dad, but _Sam_ too?"

Dean felt Elena's eyes on him, but he avoided meeting her stare, even as Mirah invaded his personal space.

"And you just _couldn't_ take it," she said, and her voice was incredulous, as if she was marveled by humanity. "That's why your head is on the chopping block now, right?"

"My God, do you _ever_ stop fucking talking?" said Dean. He'd had enough of the demon-psychoanalysis they liked to throw around at the drop of a dime. All it did was waste time, and severely piss him off.

Mirah rolled her eyes and looked back at Nickolas with a questioning look. He shrugged and stepped out from the background to stand beside her.

"Hmm, well," she said, "Perhaps that's all the entertainment I can scrounge from you. I've never been one for fast food, but—"

And then everything happened at once.

A single gunshot rang through the air before the intruder was caught, his gun falling out of his hands and sliding across the ground.

"Sam!" Dean called out, though there wasn't much he could do but stand up, with Mirah standing a foot in front of him. Nickolas pinned the younger Winchester with the raise of his hand and began choking him, but the witch soon slid to the floor as two out of three bullets embedded themselves into his back. Mirah cried in outrage at seeing her lover lying dead in a pool of his own blood, and whipped around to face the culprit.

Elena would have pulled the trigger again, but the other woman moved with inhuman speed and knocked the gun out of her still bound hands. Her eyes widened and she tensed, waiting for the finishing blow.

But the creature spun around, catching the knife headed toward her neck by the hand that held it and twisted, eliciting a sharp yell. Her other hand closed around his throat.

"_Dad!_" Elena shouted, but couldn't move very well with the way she was bound around her ankles, nor would she with Mirah holding Jack as a human shield against Sam and Dean, who'd by now freed himself from his bonds with Sam's help. Mirah's eyes were wild as tears trailed down her face, but she laughed like the demon she was.

"You know what's so utterly satisfying about this?" she asked Elena. Everyone stared, waiting for the moment to end the stalemate. "I don't have to kill him."

Elena couldn't beat down the flutter of hope that swelled in her chest.

"You already feel like an orphan."

Jack's eyes widened, surprise and hurt piercing the mask of his features, then understanding, and guilt.

"But I will anyway."

Mirah let go of him, but stabbed her arm all the way through Jack's middle, then yanked it back out. Elena screamed, Jack gasped a bit for air and fell to his knees before his daughter.

Sam and Dean pumped the creature's body full of silver bullets before she could come near them, but both knew it wasn't enough. Elena had sunk to her knees, and her clothes became more and more soaked with blood as she tried to hold her father and support his torso to try and get some air into his lungs. It wasn't any use. But unlike the movies, there were no famous last words.

There was no last minute apology. For either of them.

There were only three dead bodies, and Elena sobbing on the floor, covered in blood that wasn't her own. After a few seconds, Dean put his gun away and knelt down next to her. She stiffened when he touched her shoulder, but she let him pry her hands away from Jack's body, then let her cling to him and stain his own shirt red after he cut the ropes from her wrists and ankles. He didn't hold her any less tightly.

Sam came on her other side, squeezing her shoulder in support. They stayed where they were until her tears subsided, until she was spent. Then Dean slid his hand out of her hair that had tumbled out of its braid, and leaned back just enough to see her face.

"Let's get out of here."

* * *

><p>They burnt Rachel and Nickolas Greenwood's bodies and everything in the cave. They gave Jack Hayes a hunter's funeral, burning his body amongst the hills and sparse trees of Utah. Sam and Dean allowed Elena some time to herself by the fire as they put away their weapons into the Impala.<p>

"Tell me something, Sam," said Dean. "Where _were_ you?"

"He sent me on a wild goose chase, Dean. I followed his car for miles around town before I finally caught up with it," Sam said tiredly. "It was an illusion spell to keep me off his tail."

"How did you find us then?" Dean asked after a moment. Sam scratched the back of his head.

"Well…when that didn't work, I tried the GPS on your phone. Greenwood must've forgotten to turn it off."

"Lucky it fell out of my pocket in the car." But Dean didn't feel very lucky. "We should probably head out, get our stuff out of the motel. I gotta call Bobby…could you go get her?"

Sam nodded and looked over at the woman standing with her head bowed, arms wrapped around herself. A conflicted look passed over his face for a moment, before he started walking over to her. He made sure to let gravel crunch under his foot so he wouldn't take her off guard, and hesitantly stepped next to her.

"Are we going?" Her voice was coarse and small.

"Only if you're ready," Sam said gently. Something twisted in his gut, rose up his chest and into his throat.

_If I'd just figured out he was playing me sooner…_

"I'm sorry, Lena."

_Sorry I wasn't able to save him. Sorry you have to get on in life like the rest of us._

"Sam, how do you walk away?"

He paused, confused. She caught the look out of the corner of her eye.

"How did you walk away?"

Then he realized what she meant. How did he walk away when he stood where she stood now, when it wasn't Jack Hayes slowly turning to ash.

He simply held out his hand, palm facing up, near her elbow. Elena's gaze turned downward, allowing a tear to escape her eye.

Eventually, she placed a shaking hand into his strong one, and he led her back to the car.


	4. Departure

**AN: So I know things moved kind of fast in the last chapter. This is sort of filler but sort of not. Well, you'll see.**

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><p><em><strong>Do You Recall<strong>_

"_There's a feeling that's gone__  
><em>_Something has gone wrong__  
><em>_And I don't know how much longer I can take it__  
><em>_House made of heart break it__  
><em>_Take my head in your hands and shake it,"_

_REM, "Near Wild Heaven"_

_IV: Departure _

It was a long drive back to Hill City. Sam was relieved to see Elena had dozed off in the backseat to the lull of a slower REM song on one of many mixed tapes collected in the Impala. He noticed how Dean skipped over the heavier rock tracks.

Sam saw the immediate change in his brother once there was someone who was hurting; he returned to the person he was before making the deal. As per Dean's nature, he was a fixer. And Sam could see him trying to mend the situation the best he knew how. By picking up pieces and propping up a fallen hunter, and by taking her home, where the only family she had left would be waiting. Sam had they stay in Cedar City for at least the morning to let her sleep a few hours comfortably, but she'd declined, preferring to just get on the road to home.

So they checked out and hit the highway by morning. The three of them cleaned up the research in Jack's old room and Elena put his duffel bag in the back of the Impala, saying she'd go through later. Both brothers knew she probably wouldn't.

"Dean?" Sam said quietly. He didn't want to disturb her moment of peace either.

"Hmm."

"When we get to Hill City…"

Dean spared him a cursory glance.

"We leave her with Bobby."

Sam hesitated. It felt kind of wrong to just dump her on her front porch and drive off.

"Look, Bobby will take care of her a hell of a lot better than we could," Dean assured, guessing at Sam's thoughts by the look on his face. He could read Sam well enough by now, especially when he sighed _that_ way.

It reminded him of the time their dad accidentally nicked a stray cat with the car, and an eight-year-old Sam was determined to fix the mangy thing's broken leg, or at least take it to an animal hospital. Even then, it had been a battle of wills between him and John, but eventually the man caved and drove to the nearest animal shelter that took care of the cat.

It didn't make it through the night, and Dean had to be the one to tell his little brother that he'd tried, and that was all he could've done.

* * *

><p>She woke to Dean's gruff voice telling her they were here, at her house. In her driveway in front of a small, white house so nondescript it almost didn't warrant description. Save for the arch over the walkway that Jack had built years ago at her mom's insistence, because she'd seen it in a catalog and thought it would add a bit of appeal to the front yard. The grass that had once been kept trim was now getting a bit wild, the stone path from the driveway cracked in places.<p>

It took every screed of energy she had to keep herself blank, calm, outwardly numb. But every step she took toward the door, to this house, to the small life she'd tried to attain for herself was another she wanted to back away and run for miles. But Sam and Dean were only a few feet away. They would stop her.

Elena forced herself to unlock the door and step inside. Her eyes took inventory of the place. The couch and TV in the living room with shelves of books, movies, and CDs, the kitchen toward the back, and the beginning of the hallway to the left where three bedrooms were once occupied. One had been converted to an office, the second remained Elena's.

Like the rest of the house, the third—the master bedroom—was empty. Always would be, now.

"Lena?" His voice reminded her of who was waiting behind her, and of who wasn't. Who would never be coming home.

She didn't realize she was crying until a heavy hand gripped her shoulder, and she looked up into green eyes that understood; that knew her hold on her emotions was much more tenuous than she'd tricked herself into believing. Dean let her lean forward onto his chest, cling to his shirt with fisted hands as her body shook. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close. It was the second time she'd done this to him in two days, and she wondered if he was sick of her yet.

But if he was, Dean didn't say anything about it, just led her to her room and into her bed, Sam following close behind with her forgotten duffel. She didn't even bother changing, but did kick her shoes off. Sam left her bag by the door just in case.

"You too probably have to get going now," she said in a small voice, bringing the covers closer to her chin as she curled further into herself. The brothers looked to one another, understanding passing between the two.

"Not if you don't want us to," said Dean. "Not until Bobby gets here."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, it's no problem."

"Okay," she nodded, gratitude in her eyes.

"I can order some Chinese," Sam offered. Elena told him where the menu brochure was, but her expression said she was clearly not interested in food. Dean nodded in appreciation. It had been a longtwo days, and they hadn't eaten since the diner.

"Get me some eggrolls," said Dean. "Don't forget my eggrolls like you do my pie."

"Yeah, yeah." Sam rolled his eyes but nodded. There was a small smile on his face, even as he left the room.

"Right," Dean slid his hands into his pockets. "You get some rest. Come out if you get hungry, or feel like watching a movie or whatever."

He gave her a parting smile and turned towards the door. She stopped him at the doorway.

"Dean?" He turned back to her.

"Yeah?"

This had been bothering her for a while, but she hadn't really had the chance (or the guts) to ask.

"What the demon said…about your life being on the line?"

Dean stilled. After a few seconds he sighed and went back over to the bed, sitting on its edge near her feet.

"Yeah."

"What happened?"

He explained Azazel, who John had been tracking since his mom died. He explained the demon trying to recruit Sam as part of some kind of army, kidnapped him, and summarized in the briefest detail how he'd ended up being literally stabbed in the back. It had killed Dean. So he made the crossroads deal, and only got a year. Well, a little over two months now.

"So now we're looking for a way out of it…hasn't been going so well," Dean admitted with a weary chuckle. Her expression was saddened, concerned.

"Can I help you?" she asked, sitting up a bit. "At all?"

He waved her off and shook his head.

"Don't worry about it. Sam and I are working on it. You just chill here, unless you want some company."

He got up and headed for the door. Her voice stopped him yet again.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Lena."

"…Thanks." Her mouth tried to form a smile, but wasn't quite there. He returned it anyway.

"Anytime."

* * *

><p>"She's got some good stuff here," said Dean, eyes skimming her extensive DVD collection. He pulled one out and grinned over at Sam. "Here, Sammy, you can see the dinosaurs."<p>

"We're not watching _Jurassic Park_, Dean."

"Aw, come on," he teased. "You used to love this as a kid." Though he didn't actually want to see those fake-ass robot-looking things, he might've watched it just for Samuel L. Jackson being his usual badass self.

"All right, what about something more your speed?" He held up _Pride & Prejudice_, to which Sam rolled his eyes. "A little Mr. Darcy to get you through the night?"

"Just pick a movie, Dean." Then as an afterthought, he added, "Nothing too loud. Don't wanna wake her up."

Dean's grin faded at that.

"Yeah."

So that meant no action or horror (not that he would seriously want to watch a horror movie), and _definitely _no rom-coms. Eventually Dean put on _Tommy Boy_, the 1995 comedy. He remembered watching it as a teenager while at Bobby's for those few days John had been on the wendigo hunt. He remembered that had been one of the few things to make Elena laugh and get Sam out of his brooding.

It was fifteen minutes in before the delivery guy came with the food, and Sam came back into the living room holding up a small white bag from the tray.

"Your precious eggrolls," he said, and set down the tray on the coffee table in front of the couch. "Think we should ask Elena if she wants something?"

Dean paused the movie and glanced over at the dark hallway.

"Yeah, she needs to eat somethin' too."

"All right, I'll make her a plate. You can take it up there if you want." Dean looked over at his brother suspiciously. He didn't like the seemingly innocuous smile on Sam's face as he started opening cartons.

"What the hell is that?" Dean asked. Sam gave him a look of innocent confusion.

"What?"

"That face," said Dean, his tone boding no bullshit runaround.

"Nothing, Dean." Still with that stupid smile.

"Don't try to bullshit me. I _taught_ you that," he said, but still got up to find some plates and utensils. And get himself a beer.

"Nothin'. I can tell you like her, that's all." Sam's tone irked him, so casual and sure of himself.

"You're kidding, right?"

It was entertaining for Sam to watch Dean flounder for once—actually kind of surprising, with how sure of himself Dean usually was when it came to women. It was also a little payback for all the heckling and not so subtle nudging when he met Sarah Blake.

So Sam shrugged with a grin and scooped some rice onto the plate.

"You mean to tell me you don't?" Dean asked. "I heard you two that night. Before I walked in you were being pretty chummy."

"Yeah, she's cool," Sam acknowledged. "But you know that's not what I meant."

Dean did, but he didn't have to like what his little brother was insinuating. Despite what Jack had thought, Elena was a good hunter. She had a refreshing personality after months of watching back and forth arguments between his dad and his brother. More than that, she had been someone he was able to talk to, if only briefly, about Sam leaving for Stanford and understood both sides of it. She hadn't judged him or his family. Just listened.

Dean shook his head and set the plates down on the coffee table. "Now's not the time, Sammy."

That surprised Sam, hearing that come out of his brother's mouth, but he conceded with a nod. It really wasn't the time, with what happened. Dean hadn't denied it, though.

* * *

><p>It was nearly nightfall by now, so it was pretty dark when he walked into her room. Elena hadn't moved from where she lay on her side, hands tucked under her head with the covers drawn nearly to her chin. He chanced the possibility of her yelling at him and turned on a lamp, illuminating the room and her peacefully sleeping face.<p>

Dean set the plate down on the white desk by her bed and sat down on the edge of the mattress. He lightly shook her shoulder.

"Elena." She stirred and clenched her eyes shut at the light, but eventually she shifted onto her back and blinked sleepily at him. It made him smile a little.

"Hey, brought you dinner." He nodded over at the plate on her desk. She frowned.

"'M not hungry." Her voice was gravelly with sleep.

"You will be once you take a couple bites, come on." He gestured for her to get up, but she stubbornly clung to the bed sheets. "We're watching _Tommy Boy_."

She paused and gave him a sideways look.

"How far are you?" she asked.

"Not far, like twenty minutes in." He flashed another smile and grabbed the plate. "Look, I gave you one of my eggrolls."

Her mouth twitched into a small smirk.

"How generous of you," she remarked. He nodded like it seriously was, which made her smile a bit more genuine, if a bit tired. She pushed the covers away from her body and shivered from the sudden chill that made as she sat up next to him.

"You know…it makes sense why Bobby sent you guys instead of coming himself," she said. He quirked a brow. "Besides the fact that he was working a job."

"You think?"

She sighed.

"Yeah…you could say he and my dad had a falling out. It's why Bobby and I aren't particularly close."

"How so?"

"Well, if you know how Bobby got into hunting, then you know that too." Dean remembered that Dream Root-induced nightmare all too vividly. But that didn't explain—

_Wait…_

"I was really young when Aunt Karen died, so I don't remember her much," said Elena. "But I do remember she was warm, and was really good at baking…after that, Dad started going on extended 'business trips.'"

When in reality, he had started researching what Bobby had claimed was possessing Karen. He had to record the incident as self-defense on Bobby's part after hearing (and eventually believing) his story, but he hadn't forgiven him for killing his sister. He learned the truth from a hunter, Rufus Turner, who had been working the case and identified it as a demon.

"He dropped me off with Bobby a few months later, just because he had no one else that he trusted to take the proper precautions," she said. It was the first hunt he was going on after retiring early, and he didn't want to leave her by herself, unprotected and still unable to drive at fourteen years old.

"You think he didn't want to see Jack?" Dean asked.

"More like Dad didn't want to see Bobby," she said with a sigh, then more wryly, "Doesn't matter now, though, does it?"

Dean shook his head, but instead of answering her question, said, "Sam's probably started without us. Come on."

He then pulled away and handed the plate to her when they stood, and the two went over to the living room where Sam was waiting to un-pause the movie.

"Bout time," he said with a welcoming smile to her. Elena returned it and sat in the middle of the couch, leaving Dean to fill in the other side. It wasn't long before the food was long gone, fortune cookies read, and the movie made all of them relax. It was the deer busting through Richard's car that finally made Elena laugh, just like the first time. Especially when she leaned over to Dean and said, "What if that was the Impala?"

Dean was not amused.

"Betcha it took a shit in there too."

"You shut your mouth."

But he got her to agree on another movie after that had finished: the copy of _Iron Man _she bootlegged with surprisingly good quality. Nice and action-packed for the boys, and some eye candy for her with Robert Downey Jr.

Eventually though, worn out from the long drive and nearly twenty-four hours without sleep, the brothers were sound asleep against their respective ends of the couch. As the credits rolled, Elena grabbed the blanket folded behind her head for times such as these, and made it stretch the length of the couch. It covered all three of them as she nestled in the middle, closed her eyes and allowed the sounds of their light snoring lull her to sleep.

* * *

><p>Bobby's hug was warm. Like her father's used to be when she was a kid. A tear escaped her eye before she could stop it, but she let herself be comforted by, essentially, the only family she had left.<p>

When he pulled away it was only a little awkward, but he didn't say no to an offer of a beer as the four of them made their way to the kitchen.

"You have like, an endless supply in here," Dean commented, a note of jealousy in his tone.

"Remember that job I told you about?" she quipped.

"It can't pay _that _well." She smiled a little and sat down at the dining table.

"So…how've you been, Elena?" asked Bobby. The question seemed to make the air suddenly tense, but eventually she shrugged casually.

"Okay…considering. I've been taken care of," she said, aiming a small smile at Sam and Dean. They returned it, and Sam took a seat next to her.

"I'm real sorry I…couldn't make it out here in time."

"…It's okay, Bobby. You sent your best," she said eventually. "I wouldn't be alive right now if it wasn't for them."

"They're good," Bobby agreed, but before Dean could get a word in he said, "Don't go getting a big head. Got enough ego weighing down your shoulders."

"Thanks, Bobby," Dean mocked and sipped his beer. The older hunter rolled his eyes.

"Anyway…I don't think I've ever seen this place," he said tentatively, adjusting his baseball cap. "It's nice." It had been years since he came for a visit, before Elena's family moved to Hill City. Since before Karen died.

"Yeah…same stuff, different place, I guess," she said, a little bitterness coloring her tone. Not directed toward Bobby, just in general. The house was fully furnished with things a family should own; pictures, knickknacks, books, and everything else that made up a home. But it was also void of the one thing it needed. Life.

"Well, how about some burgers?" Dean suggested. "I think I saw some meat in the fridge."

* * *

><p>As it went, Elena wasn't a bad cook. She sucked at almost anything else domestic, like cleaning (hence the dust on any furniture that wasn't used daily) and gardening (weeds and grass growing wild in the yard). She couldn't really count herself as hospitable since she hadn't had to take care of anyone but herself, and not many people came over.<p>

But cooking, she could do. It wasn't too hard for her to follow recipes, and she'd had to pick up the skill pretty early on if she wanted meals to be edible and not fast food all the time.

The guys seemed to enjoy it well enough, besides Dean's good-natured teasing about his being burnt. She could tell by the way they didn't talk much, just devoured the small stack of patties and buns and cheese and ketchup, but sadly for her, no pickles.

"If you like them so much why don't you have any?" said Dean around a rather large mouthful of beef patty. Her face and Sam's expressed the same disgust, but she replied,

"I ran out. Didn't exactly have time for a grocery stop before you two got here."

"Doesn't need it," said Bobby. He and Dean were on their third burger, while she was still on her first. She glanced over at Sam and noted he'd eaten just as much as the other two, but was better at disguising it. Maybe he just had better table manners.

But Bobby stayed the night. The next morning he said he was going to Cedar City, Utah to pay his respects at Jack Hayes' grave, and that threw the Winchesters for a loop. With Bobby and Elena talking in the kitchen, the brothers stole to the living room.

"I thought he would stay a little longer. Make sure she was okay," Dean said. Sam looked over at Elena, talking calmly and even smiling a little here and there.

"Well…she looks like she's holding up all right," he said. "And I've already found us a case in Wisconsin. Possible vengeful spirit."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Dean said after a moment. They had already stayed too long as it was, and she had things to get to—a job and friends here in the city. The longer they stayed, the more she would be reminded of Jack. "We're just holding up her life here."

Sam saw the bit of disappointment in his brother's eyes, even if to anyone else his expression would seem blank.

But Elena walked Bobby to the door, thanked him again for coming to see her and for sending her help when she called.

"I just wished I coulda done more," he said, and after a brief nod, "…You know you can always call me."

She nodded, the corner of her mouth lifting. He gave a flicker of a smile.

"Take care of yourself. You too, boys…you know where I'll be, if you need anything."

The three of them watched his car pull out of the driveway and down the road. Dean was the one to reluctantly break the silence.

"We should be heading out too, Lena." She looked up at him with a sort of resigned look, though he could see she didn't really want to see them go.

"Yeah, I figured as much."

They went back inside to grab their bags and Elena made them some sandwiches for the ride.

"Something not flash-fried in grease," she teased, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"We'll keep in touch," Sam promised, and her smile turned a bit more sincere.

"You better," she said, and he gave her a warm hug. When she pulled away and looked over at Dean, she could smile a bit more, despite this being goodbye for now. The hug he gave her was tight and just as warm as his brother's, and unlike before when she was blinded by grief, she could actually enjoy it.

"Thanks, Dean," she whispered in his ear.

"No need," he said, and finally pulled away.

He and Sam walked out the door, and it felt like they were taking something with them.

* * *

><p>It took her all of five seconds to run out after them, nearly knocking into Dean who had barely cleared the steps of the porch.<p>

"Whoa, whoa, what's the matter?" he asked in alarm, steadying her by grabbing her arms.

"Do you need a hand out there?"

"…_What?_"

"Can I come with you?" she rephrased. Dean let go of her once he thought she was set on her feet. After a few seconds of staring at her hopeful expression, he sighed.

"Let's talk inside."

* * *

><p>"Lena, you've got a whole life here," said Sam. "To be honest, there was a time where I would've been jealous of that. You've got a job, coworkers, friends, a house. You want to give it up to <em>hunt?<em>"

Elena's mouth twitched into a melancholy smile.

"Sam…" She shook her head and sighed. "I only took that position at the museum so I could stay in Hill City…so my dad would have somewhere to come back to."

_Now I'm more alone here than ever_, she thought.

It was as Sam thought. She'd never really liked it, even if it paid the bills. She only came here because Jack kept pushing her away from working with him. He looked over at Dean, who sat on the edge of the couch's arm, arms crossed with a pensive look.

"Even if you do want to hunt," said Dean, "It shouldn't be with us."

Sam and Elena gave him a confused look.

"We don't attract the nicest of people…or things," he explained, and understanding lit Sam's expression. "You'd be better off going with someone like Bobby."

"Come on, Dean. We've hunted together before," she said.

"It's not like how it used to be…look, Lena, you've been through a lot," he said, and looked into her eyes, a bit sad and confused. His were serious, and honest. They were in some deep shit right now, and she was out of practice. "Back in Cedar City, I promised we would have your back, and we almost got you killed…I'm not doing it again."

The silence was tense, but Elena looked up at Dean with honest eyes, revealing the vulnerability there.

"Everything about this house…is a memory. Everything about this town…" She stopped herself and forced a sigh, collecting herself. "It was me trying to hold onto something that just wasn't there. And I still want to help you break your deal, Dean. Especially after everything you two did to help me."

The mention of his deal made Sam look over at Dean in surprise that he actually told her about it, but Dean ignored him for now.

"The way I see it," she said, "I owe you."

Dean stared at her for a moment, but eventually said, "I wasn't anglin' for a favor."

"But you've got one anyway."

He breathed a sigh through his nose and crossed his arms in front of him.

"…Fine. But there might come a time when I say you're done. And if I say you're done, I'm taking you back here or to Bobby's. Understand?"

She gave the ghost of a real smile.

"Deal."


	5. Keep On Runnin'

**AN: I'm back! Sorry this is a little later than usual. I thrive in feedback, so let me know what you thought!**

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><p><em><strong>Do You Recall<strong>__  
><em>

"_There was a time __some time ago__  
><em>_When every sunrise meant__  
><em>_A sunny day,"_

– _REO Speedwagon, "In My Dreams" _

_V: Keep On Runnin' _

The place looks deserted, they said. We'll go back tonight when no one will be sniffing around, they said. It'll be a simple salt n' burn, they said. So stop being so pissy, Dean said.

Well Dean Winchester was a fucking liar.

"Whoa…I know you…"

"Yeah, sure you do, let's see some identification."

"Whoa, whoa wait a second…I _know_ you two."

"…Holy shit."

Dean looked over at Sam in question.

"What?"

"Uh…West Texas, the tulpa we had to take out—those two goofballs that almost got us killed—um…hellhounds or something?"

Dean's expression went slack.

"Fuck me."

"Uh, we're not hellhounds anymore, okay?" The scruffy man in front of Elena seemed indignant, but she was looking from Dean to Sam, hoping they would see how confused she was.

"Ed, what's going on?" his blonde friend in the camouflage outfit asked nervously, though he kept filming with a digital video camera the entire time. He looked skittish. It was obvious to her both of them belonged nowhere near this house.

"It's okay, Corbett, they're not really cops," Ed assured him. Then he noticed Elena. "Friend of theirs?"

"You could say that," she said with a sideways glance to the brothers. The corner of Dean's mouth lifted at seeing the exasperation written all over her face.

"Hey, you had a partner didn't you? A different guy," he said, smirking while holding his flashlight. "He around here somewhere?"

"Y-yeah, yeah. Harry's uh, running around. Chasing ghosts." Ed didn't seem as sure of himself as he wanted them to believe.

"Yeah, okay well you and Rambo need to get your little girlfriends and get the hell out of here," Dean said smoothly, but Ed just laughed him off and stepped closer, going for nonchalance and confidence.

"Listen here, chisel-chest," Elena had to contain a snort of laughter (Dean ignored her), "Okay, we were here first. We've already set up base camp. We beat you."

Dean looked over at Sam, his face unamused. He raised his brows as if to say, "here that, Sam?"

"They were here first." Sam rolled his eyes. Dean chuckled, then pinned Ed against the wall with enough force to really startle the guy. Elena raised a brow and looked over at Sam, who only shook his head.

"Ed?" Dean had his full attention. "Where's your partner."

* * *

><p>Ed was pretty complacent after that, though he still tried to give Dean the runaround. As far as Ed Zeddmore was concerned, this was still his case. Or the <em>Ghostfacers<em>, whatever the hell him and his friends were calling themselves. Elena had put together most of the pieces so far, but she still asked Sam what the fuck was going on. He filled in the gaps of when he and Dean met Ed and Harry, and everything that had gone wrong from then on until the brothers managed to undo their mess.

"Sounds like a bunch of Scooby Doo wannabes," she said to him while Dean grilled Ed for information on why he and his team were at this house, the Morton house, on a leap year. When the reported killings happened.

"You're not wrong," Sam said flatly.

"It's for our TV show," Ed explained, and that made Sam perk up.

"Wait, what?" He let his arm drop to his side in aggravation. "Oh, _perfect._"

"Yeah, nobody's ever spent the night before," said Corbett, who was still filming.

"Uh, actually yeah they have," Dean pointed out.

"_We've_ never heard of 'em," said Ed.

"No surprise there," Elena muttered. Ed gave her a peeved look, but shifted his attention back to Dean, who was walking towards him.

"And you know why?" Dean asked. "Because the ones who have, _never lived to talk about it!_"

"Oh, God, I don't _believe_ you." Ed rolled his eyes. Sam went on to explain the missing persons reports that left the found body of Freeman Daggett's body as the most suspicious hard evidence.

"These look legit…"

"These _are _legit, and starting at twelve midnight your friends are going to die," Sam said seriously, and the effect was only enhanced by the frantic sounds of the rest of the Ghostfacers, Harry, a young woman, and another cameraman running down the stairs and into the room to find Ed. Until they noticed the three hunters.

"Hey…aren't those the assholes from _Texas?_" Harry exclaimed, then noticed Elena. "Who's she?"

"Yes," Ed answered, and Dean sighed. "She's their friend, but I-uh…what's your name?"

"…Elena," she said eventually with a roll of her eyes.

"All right, let's have this reunion across the street, guys. Come on, come on!" He tried ushering them out, but the Ghostfacers were obstinate, ignoring him in favor of returning to where they had laptops set up to view their footage. "We'll all go for ice cream. My treat, huh? What do you say? Let's go!"

They continued looking at the screens and marveled at what they saw. It was making Elena increasingly frustrated how they had almost no regard for what was actually going on in this dilapidated house.

As it turned out, they hadn't making all that racket out of fear. No, no. They were _excited_. About a _death echo_. Those were harmless spirits, just replaying their death on an infinite loop. She followed Sam and Dean away from the team for a moment to actually talk.

"They can't be serious," said Elena. Sam nodded.

"Yeah, I mean, that was just a death echo."

"Yeah, but what's it doing here? Did anybody get shot here?" asked Dean.

"No, not that I could find."

"What's a death echo?" asked one of the cameramen—Spruce, Elena thought she heard Harry call him. Dean shook his head and had to explain what it was to the team, while Sam pointed out that whatever the problem was, a death echo wasn't it. The three of them tried to get the team to pack their stuff and move out as fast as possible, but all at once Ed silenced everyone with a single question.

"Where's Corbett?"

The result was chaos, everyone panicking while Dean tried to stop Ed from leaving the room to go look without a plan. Then they all heard a male scream that resonated throughout the house. The remainder of the team took off up the stairs, despite the hunters' calls to _wait_, and form a plan. That left them staring up at the open door at the top of the stairs. Elena checked her watch.

**10:45PM**

"Shit," said Sam. They ran up and followed the boy's screams the best they could, but eventually they died away, leaving all of them looking around without a clue as to where Corbett was taken. The hunters ushered them the best they could down the hall and into another room to regroup, collect themselves, and think strategically. Most of the Ghostfacers were checking on their equipment, charging batteries, all of them in a state of shock, while Sam, Dean and Elena tried to get the front door open.

It wouldn't budge.

"You happy now, Dean?" asked Sam. "'Let's go hunt the Morton House,' you said. 'It's our Grand Canyon.'"

Dean sighed and turned away from the door.

"I don't want to hear it."

"Hey, if I remember correctly, _you're_ the only who found the hunt, Sam," Elena interjected, crossing her arms.

"Yeah, well, that doesn't change the fact that Dean only has two months left," he said angrily in his brother's direction. "Instead, we're gunna die _tonight._"

He picked up a dusty old stool on the floor and tried busting the door open with it. Elena sighed when it was obvious the door wasn't going to open, but the crashing sound alarmed the Ghostfacers.

"Hey, what's going on?" Spruce asked.

"I'll tell you what's going on," Sam began, fully steaming now. "Every door, probably every exit in this house—they're all _sealed._"

"W-Why are they sealed?" asked the girl, Maggie, if Elena remembered Ed saying.

"It's a supernatural lockdown, okay?" Dean explained. His exasperation was evident. "The thing that took Corbett doesn't want us to leave. And it's no death echo, it's a bad mother and it wants us scared."

"Or…it just wants us," Maggie finished tremulously. The EMF meter began to sound, and that's when Spruce announced that the camera was on the fritz again.

"Everyone stay close, there's something coming," said Sam, and all the computers began spazzing along with the EMF. Then appeared another death echo; a portly man looking around, seemed a bit drunk.

"Is this the same one you guys saw earlier?" Dean asked.

"Uh, no. Different one," said Spruce.

"Multiple death echoes? What the hell is going on?"

"But that doesn't make any sense…" Elena trailed.

"Beats me," said Sam, and as Dean tried to shock the ghost out of its loop, Sam explained to Harry how though it was rare, it was still possible. Unfortunately, the ghost continued on its loop until it was hit by what sounded like an oncoming train.

Dean looked back at them, just as confused and frustrated, if not more, than he was before.

* * *

><p>"I just don't get it. There's no records of any of it," he said. "No one got shot here, obviously no one got run over by a freakin' train."<p>

"There's gotta be something tying them here," Elena said, voice lowered over Sam's call of "Stay close!"

"Did the echoes take Corbett?" Maggie asked.

"Yes…no…I don't—we don't know what's doing what here, that's what we're trying to figure out, okay?" said Dean. Again, Sam reminded them all to stay close, and Elena followed him with a growing sense of unease. Multiple death echoes in one place was one thing. But ones that had never lived or died there? _That_ was unheard of. And with these "Ghostfacers" here, this hunt was rapidly turning sideways.

A lot of things had been turning sideways recently.

But she'd called her boss and quit her job, then called her workmate Val, who spent half an hour grilling Elena for the reason why. She'd lied. Unable to muster up the real reason, she told Val that she would be staying with some family friends for a while, since the family emergency turned into something more extensive that Elena had to take care of. Eventually, Val begrudgingly took her word, and it gave Elena a pang of guilt that she had to lie to the only real friend she'd ever had in the past two years at the museum.

Now she was back in a place that was familiar, yet she still felt out of place and out of practice.

"Seriously, does watching this nightmare through that lens make you feel any better? I mean…" she heard Dean say, and turned around to see Maggie stutter a, "well, yeah," and see Dean shake his head. He caught up to Elena's side and shot her a wry glance. The corner of her mouth kicked upward.

"Simple salt-n-burn, you said?" she teased. He gave her a mocking smile before it vanished into a deadpan look.

They came to what looked to have been a cross between a panic room and a freaky-ass exhibition, with stuffed dead animals on the walls and standing like sculptures. Sam found a certificate of excellence for twenty years of service at Gamble General Hospital, under Freeman Daggett's name.

"So he was a doctor?" asked Dean. Sam inspected the framed paper again.

"Janitor," he corrected.

"This looks like his den," said Dean, peering around with his flashlight in hand. "Did you say he died in '64?"

"Yeah, heart attack."

Elena studied the amount of boxes poorly stacked on a table against the wall, along with large containers covered in dust and cobwebs.

"What are these, C-rations?" she asked.

"Army issued, three squares," Dean replied, glancing at them curiously. "Like a lifetime supply."

"Is that all he ate?" She picked up a can of God-knew what. Probably beans, a million years ago.

"One stop shopping," said Dean.

"Ah hell, guys. This is ridiculous! How the hell is any of this going to find Corbett?" Ed exclaimed, mostly in Dean's direction. "We should be digging up the friggin' floor boards by now!"

"Calm down, we're trying to figure out what took him before we go running in blind," Dean explained, then started breaking the suspicious lock on the refrigerator. Elena held the flashlight so he could utilize both hands.

"Huh," said Sam from where he was crouching on the floor. A pile of papers and records were spread out in front of him. He held an informational booklet that appeared as old as everything else in the house. "'_How to Survive an Atomic Attack_.' An optimist."

Finally Dean broke the fridge open and pulled out a metal box. He set it on one of the tables they'd cleared and popped it open. There were letters, scattered papers, a book on taxidermy (which explained a lot), and…

"Eww…"

"What?" asked Sam. He and Elena looked over on either side of him.

"We got three toe tags here: one death by a gunshot, train accident, and suicide."

It didn't take long for Sam to piece it together.

"_Ewww._" Elena looked up at them, confused.

"What—" And then she saw the book on taxidermy, thought of the death echoes, and the obvious hermit behavior of the late janitor and…

"Oh, _ick._"

"What?" asked Harry.

"Well that explains why all the death echoes were here," said Sam. When the others just blinked at him, he restrained a sigh. "They're here, because they're _bodies _are here…somewhere in the house."

Dean almost shook his head. With these people, you had to explain things in plain terms they could understand.

"Daggett brought their bodies home from the morgue…to play."

There was a beat of silence, then collective "ewww"s from the other three guys.

"That's nasty man," Spruce added.

"Right," said Sam, and he looked over at Dean, who had a pensive look on his face.

"Wait a minute," said Dean. "Wasn't there a girl with you?"

Ed and Harry looked around.

"My sister, Maggie," said Ed worriedly. "Oh God, where'd she go?"

Dean sighed and gave Sam and Elena a parting look, then stared hard at the former Hellhound ghost hunters.

"Stay. Here."

Elena and Sam looked to one another with mirrored looks of unease.

"I don't like this, Sam."

"Yeah, I know." He felt kind of bad about that. He _had _been the one to find this hunt, thought it would be something easy to get Elena back into the swing of things after…well, after her being at a steady, normal job for two years where the most she had to worry about was getting there on time and making sure people didn't steal old vases. And after what happened in Utah…she wasn't completely on her feet yet. Even Sam could see that, even if he didn't know her that well.

He and Dean had tested her and made sure she was brushed up on her survival skills as far as hand-to-hand combat, which she thought wasn't really fair, considering how much bigger both of them were compared to her. Dean pointed out that pretty much anything they'd be up against would be bigger than her. She conceded that, after she'd punched him in the kidney.

As it turned out, she was better at slipping out of someone's grasp and using their weight against them than handling any kind of weapon.

And that brought them to guns. When she quietly but firmly refused, Dean didn't push her. It was the closest they came to talking about what Mirah had taunted her with. Sam and Dean had seen her shoot Greenwood in the cave and, from the way she'd handled herself, they could assume she knew how to shoot correctly. But later Dean looked a little angry when he told his brother that he'd caught her with one of his extra hand guns. She'd been stumbling through taking it apart and putting it back together, and slowly but surely emptying the barrels and putting the bullets back in.

It was clear Jack had made sure she knew her way around a gun, even after her brother's death.

Then Sam understood why Dean was angry. It said something about Jack Hayes.

"Found a straggler," Dean announced his presence with Maggie trailing behind him. Both Ed and Harry asked if she was okay, but then the EMF meter started spazzing along with Spruce and Maggie's cameras.

"Whoa, something huge is coming! Ed, look!" Harry said, showing Ed the spiking EMF signal. "It's past eleven, you guys."

"Nobody move!" said Dean, though the whirring sound was beginning to grate on his nerves. Then, all at once, there was nothing at all, and the EMF and the cameras shorting were silent.

"Sam?" said Elena in alarm. He'd been standing right next to her. But her shout alerted Dean.

"Sam?" he said. He searched the whole room with his flashlight, but it was clear Sam wasn't here. Not anymore. "_Sam!_"

Elena picked up the fallen flashlight and looked up at Dean fearfully. Not for herself, but for Sam.

* * *

><p>The next half hour they spent looking for Sam and Corbett throughout the house. Elena felt increasingly guilty with every room she and Dean checked together that came up empty.<p>

"_Sammy?_" Dean called out. "Where are you, man?"

"He's not in this room," Elena determined after closing a closet.

"You sure you didn't see anything?" Dean asked as they went back into one of many hallways they had crossed. "He was standing right next to you, for fuck's sake."

"Look, I'm sorry. I really didn't see anything," she promised. "I didn't even hear him, with the EMF going off and everything else."

Dean sighed. And then they heard yelling farther down the hall. Not the "I'm in danger, please help," kind of yelling, but the kind of racket people make when there's a fight going on. The two of them rushed into the room and found Ed and Harry wrestling and slapping at each other, while Maggie watched, shouting at them to stop. Spruce was getting it all on camera.

Dean immediately held Elena back by the shoulder and brushed past her to break it up.

"_What the fuck are you doing?_" he bellowed, sending Harry on one side of the room and Ed on the other. "_Cut it out! _We're down by _two people._"

Dean rolled his eyes when the two looked appropriately chastened and walked out the door, continuing the search for his brother. Elena sighed and followed after him.

* * *

><p>"So Daggett was a Cold War nut, right?" Dean started, flipping through the papers Sam had been scanning through not an hour before. Elena and the remaining Ghostfacers were following his lead, skimming through to find more information they might have missed. "He was an amateur taxidermist, he like to slow dance with cadavers and all the C-rations…so <em>what the hell are we looking for?<em>"

"Horrible little life," Maggie commented.

"A lonely life," said Dean, inspiration striking, "A Cold War life. He was scared."

"Dean?" asked Elena.

"He was _scared_. He was scared," Dean continued, slamming the papers in his hand down on the table and moving toward the other end of the room.

"Scared of _what?_" Harry said in exasperation, but Dean took off, out the door and down the stairs. Elena huffed in aggravation and ran after him, and she could hear the others behind her.

"Down here?" she asked when they got to a decrepit wooden door on the first floor of the house.

"Guys like Daggett—back then, the ones who were really scared of the ruskies—they built bomb shelters. I'm guessing he's got one," Dean explained, then wasted no more time in walking through the door. Elena and Spruce followed next, and then the door slammed closed behind them. It made her jump and gasp in surprise.

"Uh, hey, that's not cool," said Spruce. They could hear Ed, Harry and Maggie on the other side of the door just as confused. "What's going on?"

"It wants to separate us," Dean said, climbing back up the stairs. He tested the door and, like he thought, it wouldn't move an inch.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Elena breathed, and he gave her a wry look before getting close to the door.

"Ed! Listen to me. There's some salt in my duffel. Make a circle and get inside."

There was a pause, until Ed's voice called back out to him,

"_Inside your duffel bag?_"

"_Inside the __**salt**__, you idiot!_"

"Ah! Okay."

"Goddamn it," he muttered and turned away from the door. Elena rolled her eyes.

They made their way down the stairs and through the remains of cobwebbed taxidermy and mildew along the walls. The shotgun filled with rounds of salt was heavy in the waistband of Elena's jeans, but she didn't feel like carrying it when she had her flashlight. Any excuse to ignore its presence was one she took. She only had it on her now because the one thing (of many things) her father had insisted on was a shotgun filled with salt for any kind of angry spirit. It was the best defense short of iron (though she did have an iron rod the length of a wrench in her belt).

"Can I ask you something?" Spruce said to Dean, which was odd, because Spruce didn't actually say much as far as initiating conversation.

"What?" Dean said, without turning around, though Elena looked at the cameraman with veiled curiosity.

"Earlier, you and Sam. You said you had two months left?"

Elena's heart sunk at that particular reminder, and her gaze traveled to the ground.

"Eh, it's complicated…a while ago, Sam…" Dean started, but then he noticed the camera was still definitely rolling. He chucked humorlessly and looked straight into the lens. "Ah no, no, I'm not gunna whine about my fucking problems to some bullshit reality show. I'm gunna do my fucking job."

He turned his back on Spruce and the camera and resumed his search with Elena for a door.

"Is it…cancer?"

"Shut up."

Elena shook her head and turned to where Dean was next to a wide shelf, trying to find the door.

"Do you hear that?" Dean asked. She paused and listened.

"Music?"

"It's coming from behind this wall."

Again, Elena held the flashlights while Dean pulled the shelf away from the wall by himself with a grunt of effort.

"Wow," said Spruce. "You're _strong._"

Dean flipped off the camera, making Elena smirk. Between the two, they were able to get the door open just in time to see the ghost looming over a seated and bound Sam. It was a tall man, broad shoulders and an unseemly appearance. He looked more like a burly farmer than a janitor and taxidermist.

"_Sam!_"

Dean immediately pulled up his shotgun and fired. The ghost scowled and disappeared on impact, and Dean and Elena rushed in to break Sam out of his bonds. Dean saw that his little brother was a worse for wear with a black eye and blood streaming from a cut on his forehead, but besides that and the party hat on his head, he was fine. Dean didn't dwell on anything else than that.

Sam groaned once he was out of the chair and rubbed at his chafed wrists. Once seeing that he was all right, Dean took in his less than pleasant surroundings. Dead and decayed bodies were strapped to chairs all around the table where there were plates and utensils set, a cake that would probably cave within itself if it were to be touched, and finally…Corbett.

"Oh no…" Spruce groaned. "Corbett."

Finally, he lowered the camera away from his face and looked back at the solemn hunters, both sad and imploring. _He_ sure didn't know what to do. Now he knew none of his team had a fucking clue of what they were getting into by coming down here.

"All right, let's get out of here," said Dean. None of them could agree more. They made their way into the hall, and Dean almost sighed when Spruce once again started asking questions.

"So what's with this Daggett guy anyway?"

"Loneliness," Sam answered, fending off the flashlight on Spruce's camera from his bruised eye.

"He never heard of a RealDoll?" asked Dean.

"No, no, Daggett's the 'stuff-your-mother' kind of lonely."

"Again, _ick_," said Elena, and she and Dean shared a grimace.

"He lifted these bodies from the morgue and threw a birthday party…except these are the only people that would come," Sam finished, touching his eye gingerly. "At midnight, he locked them in the bomb shelter and OD'd on some horse tracks."

Dean gave Sam a look that said he was curious, but didn't really want to ask the question.

"How do you know this?" Sam's expression was frank.

"'Cause he told me."

"…Oh," Dean nodded. "So now that he's dead, same song, different verse? Trying to get people to come to his party?"

"That's what it looks like," said Elena. She restrained a shiver and crossed her arms instead, rubbing her chilled arms discreetly.

"Yeah, pretty much," Sam agreed, "and stay here forever."

"All right, well I'm not waiting around for party favors," said Dean, and led them back up the stairs to the still sealed door. Seeing that it wouldn't budge, he tried using the back of his gun to pound against the wood.

Sam glanced behind him and saw that Spruce had resumed filming.

"You still shootin'?"

"_Yeah._" As if he would miss any of this.

"It makes him feel better. Don't ask," Dean quipped, and continued hammering against the door.

"We're not gunna get through with the ghost still on our ass," said Elena from where she stood at the head of the steps, close to Sam to give Dean room for his bulldozing.

"Well we can't just sit on our asses, can we?" Dean shot back without pausing. She restrained a sigh.

"I'm saying, maybe we can find another way out."

"Um…guys," said Spruce from behind Sam, but it didn't seem like any of them heard him. Dean clenched his hands on the gun and finally faced Elena.

"All there is down there is the fucking basement and a whole lot of decaying crap, okay? There's not gunna be a—a hidden passageway or underground tunnel," he snapped, gesturing down the steps. "This isn't_ Indiana Jones_ and what mummified those people ain't the damn Ark of the Covenant."

Despite him getting annoyed with her, she couldn't help but tease, "Does that make me Marion?"

"Okay, calm down," Sam said when he saw his brother's jaw clench in sheer aggravation.

"_Guys!_" Spruce said, finally getting their attention. "Getting a ghost roll thing, something's coming."

Before they could react, Daggett appeared behind Spruce and effectively threw the guy back into the room downstairs. Spruce groaned, letting his hand holding the camera fall to the ground as his eyes closed. The hunters bolted down the stairs, though Dean was faster in drawing his gun and once again fed the ghost salt rounds while Elena checked on Spruce. He groaned again and she laid a hand on his shoulder.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah…think so," he nodded, and Sam helped him stand back up while Elena took out her iron rod from her belt. Sam steadied him, and then the camera was good and rolling again. Spruce brought it up to his face and nearly swore.

"Uh…guys…"

Daggett appeared behind Dean, pissed as ever, and despite Elena's warning shout, Dean was thrown against a metal table. Elena swung with the rod, but the ghost grabbed her arm and by her shirt and tossed her more effortlessly than he had Dean, and _hard_, right into Sam. She felt something hard smack into the back of her head and the world grew fuzzy. Maybe she even blacked out for a minute, because when she opened her eyes, _Corbett _was standing there.

"Corbett?" she heard Sam say coarsely.

Daggett turned around from where he had cornered Spruce, and Corbett rushed at him, latching on and wrestling with the bigger man until the entities of the two ghosts meshed in silvery light. They heard Corbett's struggles until both spirits disappeared into oblivion.

Elena heard Sam grunt behind her and felt his hand on her shoulder. They helped each other up and met a groaning Dean in the middle of the room.

"You guys okay?" asked Spruce. The three of them turned and incidentally faced directly into the camera. "Damn. You look rough."

Dean took the liberty of grabbing the camera.

* * *

><p>"<em>What do you think's gunna happen tonight, huh? Just say what you think's gunna happen on this trip."<em>

"_I think tonight…I really do…I think all of our dreams are gunna come true." Corbett finished packing the rest of the tools into the Ghostfacers van. "Does that sound stupid?"_

"_Kinda does, yeah," Spruce replied. Corbett laughed it off and shrugged, offering one more smile to the camera._

Elena remembered the final moments of the video with a sense of nostalgia. All in all, it had been put together pretty well, even if the entire thing had to be completely scrapped (which Sam and Dean took care of). There was a part of her that wished it could be shown to the world. Maybe that poor boy's death would seem a little less in vain. But as they drove away to the outraged shouts of the Ghostfacers, she knew they'd made the right decision.

"So what's next?" Dean asked, "Got a stretch of road ahead of us."

"I dunno, you're ready for another one already?" Sam asked, unable to completely veil the concern in his eyes. They only had so much time left to figure out how to save him, and Dean was already on the next hunt. "Sure you don't wanna stop somewhere for the night, get some sleep?"

"Yeah, Sammy. Sleep off that shiner in the car. We're burnin' daylight," Dean said, tossing a grin back to Elena via rearview mirror. Sam saw her slowly return it, and then saw his brother's grin directed at him. Sleep wasn't what Dean needed, Sam realized. Or Elena, for that matter. They needed to keep the momentum moving, keep on running. He couldn't begrudge either of them that, even if his muscles (and his swollen eye) ached.

Sam let out an inaudible sigh.

"All right, let's get some food on the way though. I'm starved."

"God, me too," added Elena, rubbing her painfully empty stomach. Dean's smile became a little more genuine.

"You got it."

Then the radio was on, music blasting over the sound of the Impala's motor. His foot pressed more steadily on the accelerator, bringing his Baby nearly flying over the blacktop as the sun rose higher in the sky.

"_We climb, and climb_

_And at the top we fly…"_

"Aw no, not this shit again," Dean refused, hand immediately reaching out to change the station. Suddenly a hand shot out from behind him and slapped his away. It startled him enough that the car veered right and then left.

"Leave REO on, goddamn it!"

"_Fucking hell_, Elena! What are you trying to do, kill us all?"

"Leave it on the fucking station!"

"_Let the world go on below us,_

_We are stuck in time…"_

"It's my goddamn car—"

"Guys, I already have enough of a headache!"

"_And I don't know really what it means…"_

"If this is how it's gunna be the whole ride, I'm dumping your ass off here," Dean threatened.

"Psh. As if," she snorted. "I'd track you down and then I'd _really _be pissed."

Dean reached his right arm into the back seat and she coiled away, slapping at his fingers.

"Dean, you're veering again!" Sam exclaimed.

"Shut up, I'm trying to concentrate!"

"_And I don't know really what it means…"_

"I swear to God, we have a better chance of dying here than we did by Daggett's angry ghost."

"_In my dreams."_


	6. People and Places

**AN: In answer to the Guest review, I'm glad you're liking where things are going! It was fun to write about that particular episode. Thanks for your feedback. I appreciate everyone who gave it! **

**Hopefully you all will like this one too. There's a bit of back story included that you might like, a little of Bobby's sass and general longsuffering, plus some tension between the three hunters.**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Do You Recall<strong>_

"_See the line of sight inside your mind,  
>But from where I don't know<em>_  
><em>_And the tales that are left behind,  
>Left for all to grow."<em>

– _Journey, "Precious Time"_

_VI: People and Places_

Elena watched from her window as they passed the Wisconsin state line. They crossed Illinois after one motel stop and pancakes in the morning, followed by a few burritos in the evening. They rolled the windows down through Indiana farmland.

There wasn't much she remembered while dozing in the backseat. It was a blur of buildings and rivers and natural beauty, and then came the plains and lowlands of Ohio.

The ride was quiet. Sam was still frustrated with Dean for his lack of hope where finding a way out of his demon deal was concerned, even though for nearly the past month they'd checked lead after lead, stayed up consecutive nights tearing through books and online databases, asked every hunter Bobby knew. With a little over a month left, Dean just wanted to do what he'd spent his entire life doing until his time was up.

It wasn't long before they were passing expanses of trees and the smaller redbrick houses and shops of Milan. The streets were lively; people walking their dogs and mowing lawns and doing their Saturday shopping. Quaint and colonial, the little town marked the farthest Elena had ever been from home. When she said as much as they checked into the closest motel, Sam looked over his backpack laden shoulder at her.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Illinois had been the farthest east," she said. Dean glanced back at her as he jingled the room key into the lock.

"I thought you told me you'd been to Vegas."

"When did I tell you that?" They walked into their room of two queen beds plus a couch. She saw it wasn't as horrendously decorated as previous ones they'd stayed in the past few weeks.

"The first time, at Bobby's," he said, tossing his heavy duffel on the bed to the left.

"Dean, that was over ten years ago," Elena said dryly. She plopped on the couch and immediately kicked off her boots. "How the hell am I supposed to remember that?"

"Well, were you lying, then?" he shot back with a teasing grin. "Trying to be cool saying you played the slots underage?"

"Of course not." She crossed her arms, but there was a telling shift in her eyes. Sam shook his head with a reserved smile.

"Trying to impress us?" he asked. Elena didn't answer right away, and Sam could've sword he saw her blushing. Dean's chuckle told him his brother saw it too.

"Dean was already hunting by then, and he's only two years older than me," she defended herself. That was intimidating enough for her, having only known about the supernatural for a few years by that point. "And two _boys_. I was awkward enough at fourteen as it was."

Sam and Dean shared knowing looks.

"What? I thought you were cool. My mistake."

Dean looked almost genuinely offended.

"Who beat your ass at poker?" A glance at Sam. "Can't say much for brainiac here, but…"

"Not you, I remember _that_," she retorted. "As _I_ recall, it was the other way around."

"Hey, whatever gets you through the night," said Dean, his arms spread wide. Then he rummaged through his bag and pulled out a change of clothes. "I call first shower since I went last the last time."

Before either of them could complain, the bathroom door was firmly shut and the showerhead started inside.

"I can take the couch, Lena," said Sam. She kept insisting on the couch if they didn't have to rent two rooms, even though all three of them knew if the beds weren't that comfortable, the couch couldn't be much better.

"Nah, it's okay," Elena waved him off. "I don't mind it."

"…You sure?" Sam said uncertainly. "It can't be that comfortable."

"Really, I can sleep on anything," she assured, which maybe wasn't altogether true, but she felt like she owed them for letting her tag along for this long to try and save Dean. Even if the thing did feel solid as a rock, in the past few weeks she'd gotten used to running on a mere couple hours of sleep. Anyways, it was nice of Sam to offer.

_Always a gentleman_, she thought, smiling at him. After a month, she felt like she'd gotten to know the younger Winchester better. They had a fair share in common as far as taste in books went, and while on cases, they bonded over knowledge of ancient history and mythology. Those topics were her main focus while in college. Sam had just picked it up over years of doing most of the extensive research, both when he'd been hunting with his father and brother and while studying at Stanford. He related some of his experiences from his "college years" to Elena, who hadn't really had the university experience while doing her classes online.

"Well, you get second shower then," Sam compromised, but with a look that warned her of trying to refuse. She chuckled and nodded. He was the type to smile and be just as serious.

"Thanks, I'm about ready to drop. And I wasn't even driving."

"And you won't be any time soon," called Dean behind the closed door. Sam and Elena looked to one another with identical amused grins. Sam went over to the old jeans strewn on Dean's bed and found the keys to the Impala. He nodded over at her and threw the keys over. She caught them and started rattling them, so Dean could hear.

"I think Sam and I might just go for a joyride," she teased. "Donuts in the parking lot…"

It was amazing how fast the bathroom door opened. Steam poured out as Dean came stumbling out, shirt half over his head (though his jeans, fortunately for him, were on). Elena laughed at the bit of panic in his eyes, and the way he tried to cover it up. She tossed him the keys and he caught them with the hand that was already through one of the sleeves. He gave her an annoyed look, and as usual, she feigned innocence.

"Hey Dean?" she said.

"Yeah?" he said, a little gruffly as he fixed his shirt.

"Might wanna keep the eggs in the basket."

His eyes snapped up to hers, and she gestured downward. He looked down and swore.

Sam laughed louder than he probably should have as Dean zipped up his fly, and that earned him a pillow to the face.

"All right, all right. Last call for showers before I turn the lights off," Dean grouched.

"What are we, five?" Elena whined mockingly. "I wanted to stay up and play Truth or Dare."

"Yeah, great, we'll have a fucking slumber party." Well used to his sarcasm by now, Elena smiled.

"I have nail polish and everything."

He scoffed.

"Don't hold your breath."

He then threw his dirty clothes back in his bag and threw that on the floor, pulling back the covers.

"You're sleeping in jeans?" Sam asked. Again, Dean looked down at himself, and almost sighed. He ignored the other two sniggering as he went back into the bathroom with a pair of sweatpants.

* * *

><p>In short, Dean was pissed.<p>

He was the one who found the monster; he had every right to help his dad hunt it down.

"_Have you ever seen a wendigo?" John asked. Dean pursed his lips._

"…_No, sir."_

"_That's because they're too fast to be seen, even in the daylight. They've killed seasoned hunters. Easy." John packed the rest of his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. Dean had only really been actively hunting for two years. "Both of you are staying at Bobby's for a couple weeks or so. This thing's over in Oregon."_

_He didn't have to tell Dean that. He was the one who did the research; he __**knew.**__ He wanted to raise the point that John would be going by himself with no one to have his back. But God forbid the man think Dean was giving back talk to a direct order. _

So the teenager silently simmered the whole ride over to Sioux Falls. Sam was okay with it more or less, he just didn't want to be stuck without anything to do for what was probably going to be more than a couple weeks. John wasn't exactly reliable. So the youngest Winchester kept his nose in one of his comics, one he'd read a thousand times and _still _wasn't tired of it.

But when the Impala pulled into Singer Salvage Yard, Dean noticed an old blue Camaro parked by the front door in serious need of a tune up. A good wash and wax, some new tires and a paint job for starters. If he were to guess, it had to be an 80s model. It hadn't been kept in very good condition, but it was a Chevy. There was potential.

John walked past it without glancing at it once his sons were heading up the porch steps. With a few knocks, Bobby let them in and offered John a beer. After greeting the older hunter, Sam and Dean headed for the couch in the living room. Both were stopped at seeing there was someone already occupying it, sitting on the cushions while reading a book. It was a girl, and she looked like she was trying to concentrate.

"Uh…" said Dean, a little awkwardly while still holding his duffel. She looked up and blinked light grey eyes at him. They were wide and surprised as they took in the two boys staring at her.

"Oh…hi."

"Who are you?" Sam asked, finally letting his comic fall to his side.

"You're not the only guests I've got, boys," Bobby's voice said from behind them. Dean looked up at him in confusion. "Never thought I'd be a damn babysitter."

The last part was mumbled, but even John looked a little surprised. It was hard to do that kind of thing.

"Who's this, Bobby?"

"This here's Elena…my niece," said Bobby, who gave John a meaningful look. "Her dad's a hunter, asked me to watch her for a few days. Lena, this is John Winchester and his boys, Sam and Dean."

Elena reluctantly got up and greeted them all with a shy, "hi."

"Who's your dad? Maybe I know 'im," said John. His voice was deep and gruff, and may have been off-putting if she hadn't been used to Bobby already.

"Jack Hayes," she said quietly, and John's eyes dimmed with in understanding. He'd never met the man, but he'd heard of him through a mutual acquaintance, Vick Graves. Everyone had a story of how they started as a hunter, and Hayes was no different. It just happened to be the same as Bobby Singer's. The only reason John knew was after almost an entire night of whiskey at a seedy dive, Bobby had been drunk enough to let it slip. They'd never talked about it again after that night.

"I've heard of him. He's good," said John. What he didn't know was why his daughter was here when she could be at home. From what he'd known, the man still had a wife, rare as that was.

Elena nodded, seemingly uncomfortable with talking to the hunter. Which he supposed was understandable, considering she probably thought she'd be alone here with her uncle, not talking to three strangers.

"Well, I should be going," he said, and looked down at his sons. Well, not so much Dean. The boy was gaining height quick, only a few inches shorter than him. It was Sam that still had yet to go through a growth spurt at twelve years old. "Don't give Bobby trouble."

Dean nodded for both of them, and John returned it and walked with Bobby to the door. The two talked for a moment before John walked through the door. What about, Dean didn't know. He couldn't hear or concentrate while Sam asked the girl what she was reading. Her reserved body language said she didn't really want to talk, but she showed him the front cover. Dean saw it and almost rolled his eyes at the title.

"Ooh, Stephen King is great," said Sam, interest lighting his eyes. So much so that he set down his comic next to him on the couch and sat down. "I haven't read that one though."

"_Cycle of the Werewolf?_" Dean read dubiously. "Bet that isn't even remotely accurate."

Those kinds of books never were—all usually full of holes and exaggerated lore.

"Actually, how he describes lunar cycle is pretty on point," she said, her voice clearer and stronger than when she first (sort of) introduced herself. Dean got the feeling she wasn't normally shy. "And the guy uses silver bullets to kill it."

"Oh yeah?" Dean asked, crossing his arms at her matter-of-fact tone. She looked up at him, and despite her bland expression, he caught the hint of amusement in her eyes.

"Yeah." She closed the nearly finished book and laid it casually on her lap. "I liked _It _better though."

Sam's eyes widened in horror, and Dean laughed because he actually remembered the movie.

"The clown one, right?" he said through a chuckle. She nodded, but gave Sam a curious look.

"Don't mind him. Let's just say Pennywise is his phobia," Dean smirked, and Sam glared at him.

"It's _your_ fault, you jerk!" Sam groused.

"How's it _my_ fault?" The younger Winchester gave his brother a look that said he knew very well how.

"You left me alone at that stupid place for hours. They were everywhere!"

"Aw, Sammy, I said I was sorry for that," said Dean, though his grin was anything but apologetic. Sam wasn't amused. Despite what he thought, Dean had been across the street getting what he could for the week as far as food.

Not that a kid going into the store and buying cereal and canned food didn't look strange enough, but to take his little brother in there with him? That would've gotten them sent to the manager by some overly caring mother who had nothing better to do with her time.

"I was four."

"Where did he leave you?" Elena asked, for the first time looking genuinely curious (and a little bit pitying). When Sam didn't answer right away, Dean answered for him.

"Plucky Pennywhistle's Magical Menagerie." Elena's brows rose, the corner of her mouth lifting as Dean was sure she saw the resemblance in the names.

"I try to forget," Sam deadpanned.

"I never liked that place either," she sympathized. "Smells like feet and old popcorn."

"Got a point there," Dean chuckled, while Sam nodded in agreement. There was a short stretch of silence in which all three of them didn't really know what to say. Elena toyed with the corner of the book cover while Sam picked at a small stain on his shirt.

Dean drummed his fingers on his thigh and said, "Well, I'm bored."

"Shocker," Sam quipped, rolling his eyes. He would be fine reading his comic for another hour, and one thing Bobby _did_ have in abundance was reading material.

"I've got cards in my backpack," Elena offered. Dean shrugged.

"Sammy?"

Sam looked down at the Superman edition in his hands.

_I already know how it ends_, he supposed.

"All right, fine." Dean nodded and looked over at Elena with a teasing glint in his eyes.

"Just so you know, I'm not showing mercy," he said, and smirked, "just 'cause you're a girl."

Again, he saw that subtle shift in her expression. Veiled amusement and a tug at the corners of her mouth that suggested she would have smiled.

"Sure."

* * *

><p>She woke with a start, breathing heavily in the early morning light filtering through the windows.<p>

_I'm okay…motel room…not a cave…okay._

Elena looked over the back of the couch. The boys were still asleep. In an effort to bring her heart rate down, she tried long, easy breaths in through the nose and out the mouth.

_Always just a dream. _

"_I see a small, pathetic child, still clinging to a shadow of a memory of a happy life. Of a family. But we both know that ended a long time ago."_

She could still hear the gunshot ringing in her ears. In her head. It always did. And now it pried open new wounds that hadn't had the chance to heal.

Angry tears welled in her eyes; she scrubbed at them fiercely and drew her knees to her chest.

"_I don't have to kill him."_

Elena smothered a shuddering breath, letting the tears fall and dry on her shirt.

"_You already feel like an orphan."_

She went out before she lost it, came back with donuts from a bakery just across the street. The smell woke Dean up, and Sam woke from the pillow thrown at his head. But breakfast and coffee and the brothers arguing over sugar packets was all Elena needed to put the nighttime behind her.

"So the supposed suicide," Dean said around a powdered jelly, "We going as FBI?"

"Think police detectives will do for this one," said Sam, who took a sip of coffee while rereading the local news article Bobby had sent him online.

"Means you need a monkey suit," Dean said to Elena, who pursed her lips.

"I didn't bring—"

"I know, that's why we've got some shopping to do."

* * *

><p>"<em>Never have I ever<em>…driven a car."

Both Elena and Dean sighed, each curling one finger towards their palms.

"Damn it, I've only got one hand left," Dean grumbled.

"We've only been playing ten minutes," Elena pointed out. She still had eight fingers left. He shrugged.

"Not my fault both of you are pansies."

"Hey!" Sam protested, and Elena managed to punch him lightly on the arm. Well, _she_ thought it was light.

He grunted and rubbed his arm, shooting her a glare that wasn't altogether playful. It teased a smile to her lips.

"Okay. _Never have I ever_…gone on a cross-country road trip," said Elena. The brothers shot one another identical looks and bent another finger down. That put Dean almost out of the game with four fingers left. Sam had six.

"You guys have been everywhere, haven't you?" Elena asked. It was the fifth day since they came, and they told her of how their dad had brought them along from hunt to hunt since they were little.

"Maybe not everywhere," Dean allowed. "But a hell of a lot."

"What's been your favorite place?" she asked.

"Well…California was pretty cool," said Sam. He liked the beaches, and the parks, and all the things to see there. Dean nodded.

"Yeah, Vegas was awesome," he smiled at the memory. John had let him come with him to one of the casinos, and Dean, mature in appearance at sixteen, looked just old enough to pass for twenty one (after letting his face go unshaven for a few days). "You ever been?"

She blinked at the question, but smiled.

"Yeah. It was really cool, everything lit up at night and stuff," she said. "The food was pretty good too."

"Did you get to go into any casinos?" Dean asked.

"Um…just one. My dad snuck me in and I got to do the slot machine for like an hour," she said with a small grin. He chuckled, admiring her smile. He hadn't seen it much, but it was nice. Now that he knew her a little better, he didn't mind her company, even though she was two years younger than him. She had decent taste in movies (they'd watched both _Terminator_ movies and _The Matrix_, and she'd preferred them over _Sixteen Candles_), and in music, she liked the classics. Journey being her favorite.

Plus, she watched a whole Lord of the Rings marathon with Sam so Dean wouldn't have to, letting him help Bobby out with some of the cars. As far as he was concerned, she was all right.

* * *

><p>Elena adjusted her blouse for the umpteenth time. It kept riding up in the front. Meanwhile, her black slacks were sticking to her legs and giving her heat stroke.<p>

"Stop fidgeting with the buttons. You're a detective, not a hooker," Dean whispered in her ear as Sam knocked on the door. She glanced behind her over her shoulder and glared at him.

"This top is too fucking tight." She'd told him she needed a bigger size, but there hadn't been any more and they'd been pressed for time.

"Too late now, deal with it."

She huffed out a breath.

"_Typical._"

Talking to the widow was more informative than they'd originally thought. Mysterious phone calls in the middle of the night by an unknown, strange number, possibly a woman named Linda, before a guy shot himself was reasonably high on the Richter scale of weird.

They got back to the motel and checked it out, and according to Dean, not only was Linda Bateman a "babe," but she was also Ben Waters' first wife who died in a car wreck that he lived through. That constituted angry spirit behavior. The _really_ weird thing, though? Linda was cremated.

"What about that caller ID?" Dean asked.

"Turns out it's a phone number," said Sam, surprising both Dean and Elena.

"That's no phone number I've ever seen."

"Yeah, that's because it's about a century old. From back when phones had cranks."

"So why use that number to reach out and touch someone?"

"You got me there too," Sam allowed. "But we should still try and run a trace on it."

"How the hell are we going to do that?" asked Elena. "The number's over a hundred years old."

"Because this time," Sam said with a grin, "We go FBI."

* * *

><p>Elena was comfortable, but bored. This was the eighth book she'd read in its entirety since she'd arrived at Bobby's almost a week ago, and if she stared at another page her eyeballs were going to dry out. The house was quiet with the boys outside, Dean helping Bobby make repairs on an engine that a neighbor wanted fixed by that afternoon. Elena remembered Sam having walked out with a soccer ball…but it was summer, and South Dakota scorching.<p>

Still, she could stay inside, feeling like a lump on the couch and watch TV, or she could get some fresh air, maybe take a walk.

After changing into some athletic shorts and a tank top, she threw her hair into a high ponytail and stepped into the yard with the full intention of taking a walk around the neighborhood she hadn't seen for such a long time. It hadn't changed much from when she lived in the area, but it still didn't quite feel like the kind of "home" she was used to.

Elena could hear Bobby giving Dean instructions on how to clean the parts and how to put them in place, and she figured they were farther behind the house.

And then she saw Sam out of the corner of her eye, kicking the soccer ball around the small dirt clearing by himself. He was trying to balance it on his foot, kick it up and bounce it on his head, then land it back on his foot. A couple times he made it half way there, but the ball would bounce too far. She was walking up to him before she realized it.

"Hey, whatcha doin'?" He looked up with a smile.

"Just trying to this trick…I saw a guy at the park doing this like it was nothing," he said, and attempted it again. The ball bounced off his head, and it stayed near the tip of his shoe.

"Ha! Got it!" he exclaimed in triumph, and she grinned.

"Here, pass it to me," she said, and tried and failed to catch it on her own foot. She had decent balance, just didn't have the skills of a soccer player.

"Hey, you almost had it," Sam encouraged, and she smiled and passed it back to him.

"Try it again!" They passed it back and forth until they were both tired and sweating, but laughing harder as each miss grew worse and worse. Until Sam head butted the ball so hard that it went sailing through the air and into a window in one of the junk cars. The two looked at one another with wide eyes.

"_What the hell was that?"_

"…_I got it, Bobby."_

"Uh oh," said Sam.

"What the hell's goin' on over here?" Dean's voice drifted over, and it wasn't long before they saw him coming around the corner, in dirt-stained jeans and a grey tank top and sweating. "You breakin' stuff for no good reason?"

Again, Sam and Elena looked at each other.

"Run!" she said, and the two bolted. They heard Dean calling after them over the sound of their laughter, and Sam even glanced over his shoulder to wave his clearly pissed off brother goodbye. Even as the salvage yard became a distant thing behind them, they kept running past house after house, only slowing down when they were sure Dean wasn't chasing after them. The two walked past a grocery store and a more residential area until they found a park, large and green with a walkway of people passing by around the trail. In the center was a large pond, where a couple sat closely together on a blanket.

Sam and Elena crossed the street and stopped just within the grassy field. Elena breathed in the fresh air, even though her heart was pounding and both of them were still panting for breath.

"It's nice here," Sam commented.

"Think so, huh?" The two felt a heavy hand on their shoulders and both jumped with a gasp.

"_Dean!_" Elena exclaimed, shoving his hand off. As if her heart needed another reason to beat faster. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Where did you two think you were going?" Dean said, and before Sam could interject, the older Winchester bent to the ground next to him and stood straight again, revealing the soccer ball he held in his hands. "Without _me?_"

Dean's smirk was infectious, and Elena grabbed the ball out of his hands and started running away with it.

"Hey!" Sam called behind her. "That's travelling!"

"Ya snooze, ya lose!"

"I got her, Sammy," Dean said, grabbing Elena by her middle and dragging her back to what they'd just made the field of play. She tried to wiggle out of his grip, but it was kind of hard when she was laughing too much to concentrate. Sam took the opportunity to pluck the ball out of her grasp and toss it to the ground.

"Okay," he said. Dean let go of Elena and gave her a Cheshire grin when she playfully glared at him.

"Now we play this right."

* * *

><p>The place was kind of gross, and so was the Indian man sitting at his computer desk stacked with pornography. Clark Adams, the manager who showed them in, looked like he had half a mind to fire the guy for how messy he kept his workstation, let along doing <em>that <em>on the job. But Dean was pretty quick about getting "Stewie" to trace the ancient caller ID, despite his quips about getting a "platinum membership" for Busty Asian Beauties. Elena had ignored him for the most part, but couldn't restrain a roll of her eyes.

"Holy crap."

"What?" Sam asked.

"I can't tell you where it comes from, but I can tell you where it's been going," said Stewie. He downloaded and printed out the records.

"What do you mean?"

"Ten different houses in the past two weeks," he handed Sam the paper, "all got calls from the same number."

Stewie went back to his desk while the three of them looked over the records and each address.

"So," said Stewie, getting their attention. "Are we done here? I was…kind of busy."

Elena wanted to gag. Sam didn't blame her.

"Right," said Dean, pointing with a mischievous grin. "We'll just be going."

* * *

><p>Two days later, Dean came into the house, drenched in sweat from the noon sun that had been beating down on him and Sam while they played some football. Sam had already called the first shower, so he ran up the stairs ahead of Dean, who veered left to the kitchen to grab some water. What he didn't expect was Bobby and Elena to be talking quietly, the old man's hand on her shoulder as she wiped at something in her eye.<p>

"Another week's not so bad," he said, rubbing his neck. "'S not often I've got company…you can stay for however long you want."

"I know," she said, and Dean thought he heard a tremor in her voice. "I'm okay…thanks, Uncle Bobby."

After a moment, Bobby nodded and let his hand fall to his side while the other reached for a beer on the counter. Elena backed out of the kitchen and made a beeline for the stairs, nearly smacking into Dean on the way there.

"Hey," he asked, and hesitated to steady her. She unconsciously backed off a little and righted herself. "Something wrong?"

Elena didn't meet his eyes, but he caught a glimpse of her face and alarms went off. At sixteen he knew with girls, tears was just one of the things they did. But she didn't seem like many of the girls he'd met.

"'M fine," she mumbled. Before he could get a word in edgewise, she slid past him and up the stairs to the other bedroom. There were two upstairs with a bathroom, one downstairs. That was the master bedroom with its own small bathroom. Sam and Dean shared the upstairs room on the right, while Elena had the left.

It took Dean all of three seconds to gain his nerve follow her up.

Her door was open a crack. Just a few inches, but enough to see that she was curled on the bed, knees drawn to her chest. When he heard sniffling, he rapped lightly on the door. She stiffened and looked over her shoulder a little.

"What?" she snapped. He restrained a sigh and cautiously came in, pushing the door back to its nearly closed position.

"It's just me," he said, letting it hang in the air. If she didn't want him in here, she had the opportunity and the right to tell him to get the fuck out, and he would leave. But she didn't.

Standing in the middle of the room, he felt a little awkward. Instead of asking the stupid question, "Are you all right?" he sat down on the edge of the bed, giving her about two feet of space.

"Wanna talk?" he asked tentatively. If she said no, he would probably leave.

To his relief, after a short pause, she sighed.

"_No…_" Her voice broke, but he turned toward her as sobs began to wrack her body. Despite his better judgment, instead of getting up like he wanted to, he scooted over a couple inches, then another, until he was next to her. After some inner conflict, his hand lightly touched her trembling back. Finally, Elena uncurled herself long enough to turn over and lean against him and his damp shirt. Slowly, his arm found its way around her.

They stayed like that until her fit subsided enough for her to speak.

"M-My mom's gone," she admitted. He let out a long breath through his nose.

"How long ago?"

"…A month."

"…Did something…uh…" He should've just kept his mouth shut. Usually he was good at it in these situations.

"…She was sick."

_Damn_, he thought. Then it hadn't been quick. _That's why she's here._

"I'm sorry."

She cried harder, and that's when Sam poked his head in. Dean tried warning him away with a look, but at the sight of his friend, Sam came in and sat on the floor by Elena's feet, against the bed, since there wasn't really enough room for him. Bolder than Dean took his little brother for, Sam leaned his elbow on the mattress and slipped his hand into Elena's. It surprised her at first, but after a second, she bit her lip and squeezed back.

After a while, her tears ebbed and she could breathe easier as her face rested against Dean's chest.

"…Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"You really stink."

"…Too bad."

Sam snickered.

* * *

><p>"That poor girl," Elena said as she and Sam drove away from the house. "Can't imagine what that first call must have been like."<p>

Sam shook his head.

"I don't know, but the sooner we stop it, the better," he said, and flipped his phone open. Elena didn't mean to tune out his and Dean's conversation, but her thoughts drifted. She didn't want to think about what she would do if whatever was doing this decided to call her, posing as…well, either of her parents.

It would actually help them if it did; it'd make it easier to find the thing, lure it into a trap.

She wasn't strong enough for that, though. To even hear either of their voices…

But she could try and kill whatever the hell was doing this.

After a few minutes, they made it to the motel before Dean and were able to change out of their suites and into regular clothes. When Dean came in, looking spaced out of his mind and in need of a drink, Sam immediately asked him what had happened. But after Dean explained, Elena fell completely silent, while Sam was trying to make sense of it all.

"Dad…as in, _Dad?_"

"I don't know, maybe," said Dean, but it seemed like he believed it.

"Well what did he sound like?"

Dean looked back at Sam incredulously.

"Like _Oprah_." Sam sighed. "It's Dad, he sounded like Dad. What do you think?"

"What did he say?" Sam asked, trying for the love of _God_ to be patient. Dean continued his pacing across the room.

"My name."

"That's it?"

"Yeah, call dropped out."

Sam was quiet for a moment, thinking about it.

"Why would he even call in the first place, Dean?"

"I don't know, man. Why are ghosts calling anybody in this town?" Dean shrugged, but it wasn't as nonchalant as he wanted to make it seem. "I mean, other people are hearing from their loved ones. Why can't we? It's at least a possibility right?"

"Well…yeah, I guess."

"Okay, so what if…what if it really is Dad?" Dean sat on the other bed and faced Sam, who looked confused.

"What if he calls back?"

"What do you mean?"

"What do I say?"

"…'Hello,'" Sam suggested.

"'_Hello_?' That's what you come up with, '_Hello_?'" Dean asked in mock amazement. Sam shrugged, not understanding what his brother wanted from him. Elena wanted to sigh as Dean grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. At the last second, he turned and said, "'_Hello_?'"

The door shut behind him, and Elena came to sit in the sofa across from where Sam sat on one of the beds. They looked at one another.

"Well, what now?" she asked.

Sam sighed.

"Time to get digging."


	7. When You're Alone (It Ain't Easy)

**AN: Some more back story, some more tension, all it's missing is some lovely feedback from you all to let me know I'm going in the right direction. :)**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Do You Recall<strong>_

_VII: When You're Alone (It Ain't Easy)_

Three hours later, and they still hadn't found anything. When Dean walked back through the door and saw their faces, he guessed as much, but still asked anyway.

"We can't find any reason why anything supernatural would be going on in this town," said Sam.

"Well ya know, you'd think a Stanford education and a high school hook up rate of 0.0 would produce better results than that," Dean teased.

"Hilarious," Sam said with a very much fake smile.

"You're just looking in the wrong places, pal." Dean reached into his jacket.

_He seems to be in a better mood_, thought Elena with a raised brow.

"And what are the right places, Dean?" Sam asked.

"The motel pamphlet rack." Dean set a brochure down in front of Sam on the coffee table. "Milan, Ohio. Birthplace of Thomas Edison."

"And?" Elena asked.

"Keep reading," said Dean, and the two looked down at it again. A headline jumped out at them, and they looked up Dean with similar grins.

"You're kidding," said Sam.

Dean smiled.

* * *

><p>"We're not watching <em>Terminator<em> again."

"Aw, come on, Sammy," Dean wheedled.

"No! Or _300_, or any of the Batman movies."

"Come on, you love Batman!"

"Yeah, Dean. But we've seen them fifty times. _Each._"

"I'm kind of tired of those kinds of movies too," said Elena.

"Well, I'll watch whatever you put on," said Bobby. "So the three of ya, make a decision."

"Fine," Dean said eventually. "What about something funny?"

"Like what?" Elena asked. "_Back to the Future_?"

"No," Sam groaned as he flipped through the DVD collection. Suddenly his face lit up. "Here, what about _Tommy Boy_?"

Elena smiled.

"I like that movie," she said.

"Well, I've never seen it," Dean admitted. "So I guess that's all right then. Pop it in, Sammy."

It started off kind of weak, but it was a lot better than he thought it would be. He kind of felt bad for Tommy with all the fat jokes Richard was throwing his way, but he really couldn't stop laughing. But a little piece of him probably withered and died when the moron managed to bend the car door backwards, making it fall off. It only digressed from there.

He sort of wanted to hit the fast forward button when the fucking deer tore through every scrap of interior and broke every mirror in the car, so much that it tore a hole in the roof and climbed out. To his surprise, he heard three voices laughing over the sound of his sympathetic hiss. Dean looked over and saw Elena and Sam nearly doubled over laughing. He rolled his eyes while fighting a smile.

* * *

><p>Thomas Edison's "Spirit Phone," his final invention, which he was convinced could be used to communicate with the dead. It was old enough to have been built around the time the phone number was around, but it gave off no EMF signal, nor did it explain why it would be working now all of a sudden.<p>

"Still, it's the best answer we got," said Dean. "…So maybe it _is_ Dad."

Elena didn't think he would take it well if she voiced her doubts, so she stayed quiet about it. By the time they got to the motel, she was too tired to remember, until the next day, when she and Sam had to come back with bad news. The girl from the day before, Lanie, had been pretty shaken up last night with her mom trying to coerce her into doing something Lanie would regret.

"That sucks," Dean agreed, though he was a bit distracted with trying to narrow down the lead _John_ had apparently given him. About a way to break out of his deal by finding the demon that held the contract. Elena wanted to believe it. She did. But it sounded too good to be true.

The way Sam was reacting told her he was thinking along the same lines, even when it came down to checking out the exorcism that could, in theory, kill a demon. They'd called Bobby and asked, and the hunter verified that it was an exorcism…just nothing to prove that it could kill a demon.

"There's no evidence it can't," Dean pointed out.

"Dean, come on, man—"

"As far as I can see the only one of us that has actually been to hell, is _Dad_. Think the man could've picked up a couple tricks down there?" said Dean. "Like which exorcisms work?"

"Look, maybe it does, I hope it does too, but we just gotta be sure," Sam tried to placate him, but Dean wasn't having it.

"Why aren't we sure?" he pressed.

"Because we don't know what's _going on around here_, Dean," said Sam, and Elena could see the man was coming close to his last nerve. "Some guy blows his brains out, a little girl is scared out of her mind—"

"Aw man, a couple of civvies are freaked out by some ghosts. _Newsflash_, Sam, people are _supposed_ to be freaked out by ghosts!"

"But Dean," Elena eased in, "We don't even know if they _are _ghosts yet."

Dean's gaze slid over to her, surprise in his eyes as his brows rose.

"Oh, so you're taking his side then. Perfect."

"I'm just saying—"

"Oh no, I understand. Don't bother explaining," Dean dismissed angrily, prompting Sam to cut in.

"Did Dad tell you where to find the demon?"

"I'm waiting on the call!"

Sam nodded tiredly. He discreetly glanced at Elena, who looked at her watch. It reminded him of their scheduled visit in half an hour.

"I told Lanie I'd stop by," said Sam. "Elena too." Dean stared blankly as Sam turned away.

"Oh, no, go ahead and hang out with Jailbait," Dean mocked. "Just watch out for Chris Hansen."

Sam turned back around with a "really?" expression.

"I'll just be here, trying to save my life." His eyes flicked to Elena, and they made her feel the pinprick of guilt that snuck its way under her skin. She frowned at him, but after that he ignored her and continued to give Sam the third degree. His brother only turned toward the door again, until his brother's voice stopped him.

"You are unbelievable, you know that?" Dean said, pure frustration, and maybe a little hurt, in his voice. "I mean for _months_ we've been trying to break this demon deal, now Dad's about to give us the freakin' address and you can't accept it? The man is dead and you're still butting heads with the guy!"

"That's not what this is about," Sam said, trying everything in his power to be calm, but the angrier his brother got, the more the whole situation ate at him.

"_Then what is it?_"

"We've got no hard proof here, Dean! After _everything_, you're _still_ going on blind faith!"

"Yeah, well, maybe. Maybe that's all I got left, _okay?_"

Elena saw the moment where Sam deflated, and there was a part of her that wanted to cry.

"_Please_, just _please_ don't go anywhere until we get back. Okay, Dean?" He nodded, but Elena hardly doubted he meant it.

"I don't have to come," she said quietly to Sam when he walked to the door.

"No," said Dean, waving a hand dismissively. "You promised you would go? Go. I don't need a fucking babysitter."

Her brows furrowed a bit as she frowned at him, biting the inside of her lip a little, but he clearly didn't want her company.

"You know that's not what I meant," she said, but he ignored her. So she nodded and walked out the door with Sam right behind her.

* * *

><p>"Have you told your father about any of this?" Sam asked.<p>

"And bother him at work?" said Lanie. "No. He wouldn't believe me anyway, just chuck me into therapy."

"So what did your mother say?"

"…That she wanted to see me." She crossed her arms. "So at first, I thought I was supposed to go to the cemetery."

"Did you?" asked Elena.

"Nothing happened…but then, she started telling me to do other things," said Lanie, her voice beginning to quiver.

"What sort of things?" Sam asked.

"Bad things." Tears swam in the girl's eyes, and Elena looked up at Sam with sympathy toward her. Sam didn't want to ask, but he needed to know.

"Lanie, you have to tell me what happened."

"My mom told me to go to my dad's medicine cabinet and take all his sleeping pills!" she exclaimed, as tears slid down her cheeks. "All of them!"

"She wanted you to kill yourself?" Elena asked incredulously. Lanie pressed her hands to her mouth and nodded.

"Why would my mom want me to do that?"

"I don't know," Sam admitted, shaking his head. His gaze drifted to the world outside the window as his brain scrambled for the answer.

"What, just so I could 'come to her?'"

Something clicked.

"What did you say?"

"She said she wanted me to come to her."

"Yeah, but—but how did she say it?"

"'Come to me,' like a million times!"

It donned on both hunters with chilling clarity.

"Lanie…that's not your mother."

* * *

><p>Sam and Elena rushed to secure the house with instructions to Lanie not to answer <em>any<em> phones. They were on their way to the door when Lanie's voice stopped them.

"Where's Simon?"

"Who's Simon?" asked Elena.

"My little brother…" Lanie glanced out the window and gasped. Sam rushed over and swore under his breath, immediately taking off out the door. The boy was about to cross the street while several cars rushed by in afternoon traffic. Elena and Lanie ran after him, and they caught up with him just in time for Sam to pull the boy out of the road before a truck could run him over.

Lanie, hysterical by now, gathered Simon in her arms and kissed the top of his head. While she asked if he was all right, Sam and Elena looked at one another gravely.

* * *

><p>"Dean, it's not Dad," Sam said over the phone, and the volume was so loud that even Elena could hear in the passenger seat.<p>

"_Then what is it?"_

"It's a crocotta."

"'_S that a __**sandwich?**__"_

"It's a scavenger, whispers 'Come to me' as your loved ones, lures you into the dark and swallows your soul."

"…_Crocotta, right. Damn it, that makes sense."_

"Dean, look. I'd sorry, man. I know—"

"_Hey, don't these things live in filth?"_

"Yeah."

"_Sam, the flies at the phone company." _

Sam and Elena looked to one another in comprehension.

_Stewie._

* * *

><p>But as it turned out, it wasn't their favorite porn-watching, wisecracking friend. It was the manager, "Clark." Poor Stewie didn't have a chance, and Sam felt guilty when the creature stabbed him through the heart, right in front of them, and ate his soul. Strapped to their chairs, they couldn't move to help him. Sam looked to his left and saw Elena was still out cold with a bruise over her brow.<p>

"My last call with Dean…that was you," said Sam. "You led us here." Clark looked down at him as if he'd said something precious.

"Some calls I make, some calls I take, but you gotta admit," he said, pointing a finger. "I had you going for awhile. All that Edison phone crap."

Clark smirked and went over to a metal box along the wall with buttons that glowed red. With his touch they began blinking, and the machine hummed with power.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked as a hollow feeling entered his stomach.

"I'm killing your brother." Then he paused. "Or maybe I'm killing another guy…we'll just have to see how it goes."

He made the call, impersonating a little girl that knew who her murderer was. He was waiting at the man's house, _right now_, and that made Sam's blood boil.

"You know, impersonating Dean is one thing," he said when the crocotta stepped away from the box and yanked the knife out of Stewie's corpse. "But impersonating my dad? That's one hell of a trick."

"Once I made out that you three were hunters, it was easy," Clark said, and pushed Stewie away, started stepping closer and closer to Sam with the bloody knife in hand. "Found Dean's number. Then your number. Then your father's numbers. And emails. And voicemails. Everything. You see, people think that stuff just gets erased, but it doesn't. You'll be surprised just how much some of your stuff is just floating out there, waiting to be plucked."

Sam kept the thing talking while he loosened the wires binding his wrists together so painfully. All the while he hoped and prayed to whatever was listening that Dean didn't kill that guy, or get himself killed.

"You're all so connected…but you've never been so alone."

While Clark continued monologuing, Sam heard Elena stir. He didn't chance glancing over at her until Clark noticed with a sinister smile.

"Oh, don't worry. I'll get to her after—" Sam didn't give the creature a chance to finish and tackled it like a linebacker, vaulting out of his chair and bringing Clark to the ground. Both of them scrambled for the knife that had clattered to the floor.

"SAM!" he heard Elena shout, but he didn't have time to acknowledge her as he was thrown across the room, into the wall. When Clark tried to stab him, Sam used his longer reach and pinned the man against the desk. A stray punch had Sam reeling back, but he corrected his footing and blocked what would have been a blade to the eye.

All the while Elena tried to wiggle out of her bonds, even as the wire cut into flesh deeper and deeper. She felt blood dribbling down her wrists and palms, but she continued to loosen the knots.

Then she heard a squelching sound.

Her eyes snapped up in alarm, but it faded as she saw Sam standing over Clark, who was impaled through the back of the throat by a hanging key hook. Blood ran down the crocotta's chin in rivulets, and she grimaced.

"You okay?" Elena asked, when Sam came over to help untie the wires. His cheek was red and swelling.

"Yeah. Are you?" Sam removed the wires from her wrists and he saw her wince.

"Yeah. Got a massive headache though."

"We'll get patched up after we find Dean."

* * *

><p>Dean answered his phone when Sam called and filled him in on what happened. No, he hadn't killed the man who he'd thought was the demon. With "A motherfucking crocotta, why didn't I think of that," and a "You okay?" and they were back to equilibrium.<p>

Sam and Elena entered the motel room moving slower than usual. Dean saw Sam through the bathroom mirror as he pressed a warm towel to a cut on the edge of his brow.

"I see they improved your face."

Sam's brows rose slightly.

"Right back atcha."

Dean looked at himself again and nodded in agreement. He tossed the towel into the sink and turned around, taking in the sight of them. He glanced at Elena and frowned.

"There's Advil in my bag." His gaze traveled down to her hands that were still bloody. "You should get cleaned up."

Her eyes regarded him for a moment. Eventually, the corner of her mouth twitched upward.

"Thanks," she said, and brushed past him. She figured she would let the brothers talk, anyway. Elena spent time in the shower just cleaning off all the gunk of being knocked out and half dragged on the floor, all the blood and grime swirling to the bottom of the shower and disappearing down the drain. She took care when she got out and bandaged her wrists, and though she didn't mean to, she could hear conversation from the room.

"There's nothing wrong with having hope, Dean."

"Nah, hope doesn't get you jack squat…I can't expect _Dad_ to show up with some miracle at the last minute. I can't expect anyone to, ya know?"

Elena rested her forehead against the bathroom door. She listened to his voice with sadness. It was a far cry from the cocky teenager she used to know.

"The only one who can get me out of this is me."

"…And me," said Sam.

"…'And me?'" Dean's tone was incredulous.

"What?"

"Deep revelation, having a real moment here and _that's_ what you come back with…_'And me?'_"

"…You want a poem?"

"Moment's gone."

Elena smiled and figured that was a good a time as any to come out. She dropped her used clothes in her bag and walked past Dean to get to his.

"Whoa, whoa, where you going with that?"

"You said I could have some Advil."

"Oh…yeah. It's in the side pocket."

"Sam, I found a first aid kit in the bathroom. You can wrap your wrists," said Elena. Sam nodded.

"Thanks. That and a shower actually does sound good right now."

He got up and grabbed a change of clothes before heading in there, shutting the door behind him. Elena took advantage of his absence and sat on his bed after popping the pills in her mouth, and took a sip from a water bottle.

"Where'd you get that?" Dean asked her. He didn't remember her buying water when they stopped at that Seven Eleven.

"Your bag." A rare find of water instead of booze.

"Right." He shook his head. It really wasn't worth the argument, considering he stole Twix and Snickers from her "secret" stash of chocolate bars in her duffel on a semi-regular basis.

Dean turned on the TV and popped open a beer.

"Where'd you get that?" she asked.

"Stopped on the way back and bought a case." And _there_ was the more likely purchase.

"Right."

Both of them occasionally sipped as they watched a soccer game. One team scored a goal and Dean nodded, pumping a fist. She didn't know if he was rooting for a team or was just excited to see _someone_ score after five minutes of nothing. But him raising his arm made her catch a whiff of something.

"Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah."

"You stink." He took a long swig of beer.

"…That's just too bad, ain't it."

It wasn't long before Sam came out, patched up and looking more refreshed, and sat alongside Elena while animatedly watching the game. Eventually they'd call in a night and turn in, but for now, the moment was a little bit too peaceful to pass up.

* * *

><p>Elena woke up on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. There was an ache in her back and a groan out of her mouth before she'd even realized what had happened. Then a lamp was on, chasing the darkness into the far corners of the room, and feet thudded heavily on the carpet until she was met with an alarmed and disheveled Dean. He still looked half asleep and she felt guilty for waking him up unnecessarily.<p>

"Fuck…you okay?"

"She all right?" she heard Sam sleepily mumble.

She took the hand he offered and allowed him to grab the blankets her legs were tangled in while she seated herself back on the cushions. Her skin was cold yet slick with sweat, and she could still feel her heart racing.

"I'm okay, I…" She looked at her mussed surroundings and shrugged, "Guess I had a bad dream or something. I'm really sorry I woke you up."

He waved it off, but he was making that _Dean _look that said he didn't subscribe to bullshit.

"You sure?" he pressed.

"Yeah, Dean. Go back to bed, I'm fine."

Eventually, he begrudgingly returned to the bed and turned off the light. It wasn't long before the sound of him snoring softly reached her. Elena was wide awake now.

"_You already feel like an orphan."_

She shuddered and rolled over, checked her phone on the table. Only two hours and fifty three minutes left until morning.

* * *

><p>Bobby was at a neighbor's house fixing their air conditioning. Sam was downstairs reading. Elena was in her room with the door closed.<p>

Dean could bug his little brother until Sam got mad enough to start hitting him with his book, but that might end like the last time: rearranging Bobby's living room and denting Dean's forehead.

Or he could chance on Elena. If she wasn't napping, usually she wouldn't be doing much that would provoke bodily harm if he were to interrupt.

He went upstairs.

She allowed him to come in and he found her awake, playing with an ancient-looking record player. Dean had never noticed it before, but that might've been because it'd been camouflaged by Bobby's ancient book collection that continued even on the second floor.

"I brought this from back home. This was my dad's, back in the sixties," she said with her back turned to him. "But the records are mine. Especially this one."

She looked over her shoulder and held up the old vinyl for him to see, then placed it inside the turntable. The record crackled, coming to life as the first strains of music resounded in the small room.

"I know this song," he said. It was vaguely familiar, like it had been on the radio at some point…

"Billy Joel, 'And So it Goes,'" she supplied with a smile. He only saw it when she finally turned around.

Ah…yeah, he actually had no idea what song that was.

"Right."

She smiled knowingly.

"It's all right. It was one of his less appreciated songs." Dean raised a thoughtful brow.

"What makes it so special then?" he asked.

Elena paused, smiling softly as she listened to the simple, gentle melody.

"It's my favorite song," she admitted. "I used to listen to it at least five times a day around the time I first heard it."

"Sounds like when I got _Led Zeppelin IV _after saving up for a while."

"That's one of the best."

"You'd be right."

"Yeah…my dad and I listen to that one in the car…well, used to be a car."

Dean perked up at that.

"You mean the blue '82 Chevy Camaro in the yard?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

"I saw it when Sam and I first got here. That car's still got some life left in it."

"It was my mom's car," she confessed quietly. He looked at her for a moment, and gave her a small, but genuine smile.

"All the more reason to fix it up for her."

And that's how Dean, Bobby, Elena, and Sam (after they'd wrangled the book away from him) spent the afternoon. Bobby and Dean replaced the engine while Sam and Elena passed tools and cleaned the interior. Day by day, the car got worked on. New brakes, tires, new paint job, fixed the windows, add a spare tire in the trunk and the Camaro was a thing of beauty. So much so that Bobby hardly recognized the car he'd towed two weeks ago.

They celebrated by going out in the car to the nearest diner, where they almost got kicked out after Dean threatened a guy who came too close to it with triple-scoop of ice cream that was about to topple over on the new paint. Bobby could only shake his head and grab Dean by the back of his jacket before he "got his fool head shot in."

It was late enough by the time they got back that they were surprised to see John Winchester waiting for them in the Impala.

"Hey boys."

"Dad…you're on time," said Dean. He couldn't really believe it, but John was looking at him in slight confusion.

"Yeah, I'm on time. Say your goodbyes and get your stuff."

"…Yes, sir."

It was a long walk back inside. Longer than he thought it would be. It was even longer coming downstairs, where Elena stood leaning against the back of the couch. She'd been waiting for them. The brothers stopped in front of her, the only real sounds coming from where Bobby and John were talking outside.

She offered a semblance of a smile, and Dean returned it the best he could.

"Well, looks like we're out of here…" he said. "Any idea when your dad's coming to get you?"

"In a couple days," she said, glancing down at her shoes. "Maybe I'll see you guys around."

Dean doubted it, but he nodded anyway. Elena looked up just in time to have her arms full of Sam. Her arms came around his shoulders, and as she was only a little taller than him, she was able to hug him to her comfortably.

"We'll keep in touch," he promised, and backed away toward the kitchen with a smile. "I'm gunna grab a water bottle before we go."

Her eyes brightened a bit and slid over to Dean, who watched his brother go with a reserved, fond smile on his face. His eyes met Elena's, and he tucked her close to him with one arm while the other shouldered his duffel.

"Thanks for making these past two weeks not suck," she said with her cheek resting against his chest. He laughed and the sound traveled through her body.

"Glad I was able to entertain you," he remarked dryly, and pulled away with a grin. "Now you've got a car to come meet me when I'm back in South Dakota."

She smiled and shrugged. He saw something hidden in her eyes then, but couldn't quite pin down what it was.

"All you gotta do is call," she said, though she knew neither of them probably would.

* * *

><p>"<em>The fuck<em>, Elena, don't try and bullshit me!" Dean's face was frustrated and concerned and Sam was trying to be patient and concerned, but she didn't want to deal with it.

"Look, I—"

"If you say you're fine…_one_ more time," Dean warned, and she quieted.

"Just tell me the truth." The patter of rain outside was all that disrupted the heavy silence.

She sighed.

"So I'm having some trouble sleeping."

"Not five minutes ago, you were screaming like you were dying," Dean said flatly.

"How long have you been having nightmares?" Sam asked more gently. It took her a little while to answer, but with Dean's unyielding stare, she caved.

"Since we left Hill City."

"You could have said something," said Dean. She gave him a long look.

_Yeah right, _she thought. Yeah, by now Elena could count Sam and Dean as friends, but that didn't mean she was seriously about to spill her guts like a little girl. She was a hunter, and so were they.

He understood, but obviously didn't like it anymore than he liked being startled awake at four in the morning.

"You want to talk about it?" Sam offered. Her closed expression said it all.

"I just need some air." She got up and laced up her boots.

"Want one of us to go with you?" Sam asked tentatively, and as it turned out, that was the wrong thing to say. She looked over her shoulder and glared.

"I don't need my hand held, thanks," she scoffed. "Since when do you two treat me like a fucking _five year old?_"

Elena grabbed her cell and stuffed it in her pocket before walking out of the motel.

"She didn't take an umbrella," said Sam. Not that they had one.

"Did it look like she cared?" Dean retorted. Sam's sigh was enough to grate on his nerves, because _that_ sigh coupled with _that _expression said a good part of Sam didn't feel right letting her go out like that. It grated on his nerves because he felt the same way.

He made sure to grab an extra hoodie before going out.

* * *

><p>Dean didn't need to go far. Didn't even need the sweatshirt. Elena hadn't left the front of the motel awning, where she leant against a support pole with her arms crossed. She glanced over at him when he came to stand next to her, silently offering her the hoodie. She took it, because it was in the lower fifties outside and with the rain and the wind chill, she was cold.<p>

"Lena—"

"Dean. I'm _not_ doing this now."

"Don't tell me it's not eating at you."

She looked down at the ground, lips pressing into a line. But he knew the signs. He'd been there a year ago, when he got out of the hospital.

"You're angry…and it's _there_, just under your skin all the time," Dean said. He looked out to the rain-slicked road and watched the downpour of millions of silver bullets hitting the pavement. "Inside's empty. Even if you can laugh it's never the same."

Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to blink, refused to let them fall.

"It's fucked up."

"I know," he agreed, but then she turned to look at him.

"It's fucked up because it wasn't supposed to _happen_ like that." The tears finally fell and she took a shuddering breath. "It…I…"

Elena sighed and ran a hand over her face and through her hair.

"It's fucked up because I'm still…_fucking_ angry. At _him_." Her lower lip trembled as she shook her head. She avoided Dean's gaze, not wanting to see the reproach that was surely there. "He'd push me away and push me away, _especially_ after Mom. After _everything_ I…"

She paused, closing her eyes to collect herself.

"If I'd just grilled Vick more the first time, I could've been there to have his back…If he'd told me where he was—or better yet, _let me come with him!_" she exclaimed, "He'd still be alive."

For those last two years, she'd hated him even as she tried to stay close, stay in touch in case he ever needed someone, ever needed what was left of his _family_.

She never had the chance to say she was sorry.

"And _that_…it kills me."

There was a long pause where neither of them spoke. The rain continued to fall, though it began to ease.

"It wasn't fair," Dean said, surprising her. There was no judgment in his expression, only understanding. Only now did he get why she didn't hate him and Sam for not being able to save her dad. She was too busy blaming Jack, but mostly, blaming herself.

She nodded and wiped the tears from her face.

"You don't have to…do this alone, you hear me?" His green eyes bore into hers. "Either way, it ain't easy, but…we've got your back, all right?"

Again, Elena nodded, dabbing at her face with her sleeve.

"Yeah…I hear ya."

He cracked a smile.

"Good. Let's get Sammy and grab some breakfast," he said, and steered her back to the room by her shoulder. "I want me some eggs and bacon."

With some extra hash browns and maybe some toast smothered in butter.

"Hmm, bacon," she hummed in agreement.

"Just don't steal all the ketchup this time."

"I told you a million times, there was only a little bit left!" She strained to look over at him and show with the measure of her fingers just how meager the amount in the bottle had been. "The waitress brought a new one over no problem."

"But then I had to wait, and by then everything was cold," he said. "You can't eat cold eggs!"

Elena sighed.

"If you're that choked up about some _ketchup_, you're in need of serious therapy," she said as he twisted the key into the lock and opened the door.

"Ha!" he said over his shoulder. "No amount of therapy in the world would cover it, save a straight jacket and a one-way ticket to the Nut House. But hey, as long as there's free cable and pie, sign me up."

She and Sam rolled their eyes.

"You and your goddamn pie," she muttered. He flashed her a grin and grabbed the keys to the Impala.

"You know it."


	8. Lady Luck

**AN: A sort of zombie, Bela, and some booze for your amusement.**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Do You Recall<strong>_

_VIII: Lady Luck_

So apparently they were hunting zombies in Erie, Pennsylvania. Or maybe just one zombie that was very good at his job.

After interrogating demon after demon for the name of who held Dean's contract went sour, Sam figured Dean could use the break. That last one had been a little too mouthy, and it had ended like all the rest. They were too afraid to talk.

The medical practitioner who surveyed the body of a man who'd had his liver surgically removed showed them the very clean, very not savage incision. Whoever did it knew their way around a scalpel.

"So that kind of punches a hole in our zombie theory," Sam said when they were out of the medical room.

"Yeah, a zombie with skills—Dr. Quinn Medicine Zombie," Dean quipped, and while it made them laugh a little, it didn't bring them any closer to a logical explanation.

"Maybe we're on the wrong track looking up for hacked up corpses," Sam pointed out.

"What should we be looking for?" asked Elena.

"Survivors," said Sam. "This isn't zombie lunch, this is organ theft."

* * *

><p>They talked to a guy who'd only had his kidney stolen—jumped from behind while feeding the car meter, probably knocked out or drugged and strapped to a table. Other than waking up a couple times from the agonizing pain and finally in a bathtub full of ice, he didn't remember much of anything that could help them.<p>

So they went back to the motel of the night and did some research; Sam on suturing procedures, and Dean and Elena on the closest place with the best burgers.

"So I got a theory," said Sam.

"Yeah?" said Dean. Elena was too busy biting into juicy, tender heaven between buns.

"Yeah, talked to Mr. Giggles' doctor. Turns out his incisions were sewn up with silk."

"That's weird," Dean said through a mouthful of beef and bread and cheese.

"Nowadays it is, but silk used to be the suture of choice back in the early nineteenth century." Sam turned his laptop around so the other two could see.

"It was really problematic. Patients would get massive infections, the death rate was _insane_."

Dean scrolled through the pictures with mild distaste.

"Good times."

"Right, so doctors, they had to whatever they could to keep infections from spreading," said Sam. "One way was maggots."

Elena made convulsive sounds while Dean made a look of disgust.

"Dude, I'm eating."

"It actually kinda worked because maggots, they eat bad tissue and leave the good tissue, and get this," Sam continued. He looked so excited at the prospect that Elena didn't want to bring down his obviously good mood, but he was making her sick. "When they found our guy, his body cavity was stuffed_ full_ of maggots."

"_Dude_, I'm _eating_," Dean said more forcefully and pushed the laptop back toward his brother. Sam gave a semi-apologetic look. "Okay, let me get this straight. So people are getting ganked, right?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded.

"A little _Antiques Road Show_ surgery, some organ theft—why is this all sounding familiar?"

"Because you've heard it before," Sam said. The other two still looked confused. "When you were a little kid. From Dad."

Sam opened John's journal and slid it over to Dean. The page held a lot of scribbled description, but in the middle of the right page was a strange symbol Elena had never seen before.

"Doc Benton: real life doctor who lived in New Hampshire—brilliant, and obsessed with alchemy. _Especially_ how to live forever," Sam explained. "So in 1816, Doc abandons his practice and—"

"Right, no one hears from him in like, twenty years then all of a sudden people start showin' up dead," Dean finished.

"Dead or missing an organ or a hand, or some other kind of body part."

"Gruesome, as usual," said Elena as her eyes skimmed the pages.

"And it was actually working. He kept on going while parts would keep on ticking, and when they wore out he'd replace 'em," Dean continued. "But I thought Dad tracked him down and took his heart out."

"Yeah, I guess the doc must've plugged in a new one," said Sam.

"Oh, ick," Elena complained, and she pushed away her half-eaten burger. Dean chuckled and picked up his own, taking out a large bite.

"Kay, where's he doin' the deed?" Sam picked up the journal and skimmed the lines.

"According to this, Benton's picky about where he sets up his lab. He likes dense forest area with access to a river or stream, or some kind of fresh water."

"Why?" With this turn of conversation, Elena guessed it wouldn't be amiss to finish her burger. The sight of it reminded her she was still hungry. The smile edging onto Sam's face should've warned her.

"Because, that's where he likes to dump the bile, and intestines, and fecal matter," he finished, barely restraining a chuckle at how Dean was paling. "Still hungry?"

Elena just managed to swallow what was in her mouth, but she dropped the rest of it onto the bag. Dean made gagging gestures, but the look of his sandwich…he couldn't waste food like that.

"I could never stay mad at you, baby."

The generous bite he took made Elena cover her eyes.

* * *

><p>They were scoping out the possible hideouts in Erie when Bobby called about a lead on Bela Talbot. Elena had never met her, but apparently she'd stolen the Colt, a one of a kind gun with one of a kind bullets, and she was very good at covering her tracks. But the lead was one Rufus Turner, former hunter turned hermit and salesman on the side, who got a line on Bela wanting to buy some things.<p>

"_I haven't seen him in fifteen years, not the Christmas card type,"_ said Bobby. _"I doubt she knows I know him…Canaan, Vermont."_

"All right. Thanks, Bobby. We're on our way." said Dean.

"_And one other thing. Take a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue."_

"…Okay," Dean said uncertainly, and he hung up the phone and turned to Sam and Elena. "Come on, we're going after Bela."

"What?" said Sam. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on a second—"

"Come on, get your stuff."

"Whoa, _wait_. I think we should stay here and finish the case."

Dean laughed a bit.

"Oho, are you insane?" he asked, putting his jacket on.

"Dean, that was months ago, she probably sold it the second she got it," Sam pointed out. Dean seemed to consider this, adjusting his jacket.

"Well then I'll kill her. Win-win."

"Wait, kill her?" Elena asked. Dean gave her a longsuffering look.

"I'll give you the long, _ridiculous_ fucking story in the car."

"Dean—"

"_Sam._ We're going." Dean threw his duffel onto the bag and looked over at Elena.

She was torn. On one hand, the Benton thing was here, and he was hurting people. On the other hand, the missing Colt in Bela's hands seemed the greater threat, if Dean's reaction was any indication. More lives at stake.

She tentatively grabbed her bag with an apologetic look at Sam.

"No," he stubbornly refused.

"Why the hell not?"

"Dean, this is _here_, _now_. This is what's going to save you!"

"What, chasing some Frankenstein?" Dean asked skeptically.

"Chasing _immortality_." That threw Elena and Dean for a loop, but Sam explained, "Look, Benton can't die. We find out how he did it and give it to you!"

"What are you talking about?"

"You have to die before you go to hell, right?" Sam began, "So if you can never die, then—"

"Wait, wait, wait a second," said Dean, coming closer to Sam. "Did you know this was Doc Benton from the jump?"

Sam hesitated, but said, "No."

Dean watched his brother closely. His bullshit detector was going off with red sirens.

"Look," Sam said eventually, "I was hoping—"

"So the whole zombie thing wasn't anything, you were _lying_ to me?"

"I didn't want to say anything until I was sure, Dean," Sam said earnestly. "All I'm trying to do is find an answer here."

"No, all you're trying to do is chase…Slicey McHacky, here," said Dean, annoyance and anger raising his tone. "And to kill him? No, you wanna get him a freakin' beer, you wanna study him."

"…I was just trying to help."

"You're _not helping_," Dean said firmly, despite the hurt in Sam's expression. "You forget, that if I welch on this deal, you die. Guess what, living forever is welching!"

"Well, fine! Whatever the magic pill is, I'll take it too!"

"Oh, what is this, _Sid and Nancy?_" Dean dismissed and turned away. "No, it's just like Bobby's been saying. We kill the demon that holds the contract and the whole slate is clean, that's our best shot."

Sam regarded him incredulously while Elena remained silent, waiting for how this would play out. She understood what Sam was saying, but Dean had it right. Benton was a long shot, and Dean would never risk his brother's life for that.

"Even if you did have the Colt, who are you gunna shoot?" Sam asked. "You don't know the demon that holds the ticket."

"I'll shoot the hellhounds then, before they slash me up!" Dean shot back. He was beyond done with this conversation, and all it was doing was wasting time. "Now you comin' or not?"

"I'm staying here," Sam said resolutely. Dean stared at him in disbelief.

"No you're not. Because I'm not gunna let you wander into the woods alone to track some organ-stealing freak."

"You're not gunna _let_ me?" Sam chuckled humorlessly.

"No, I'm not—"

"You're not gunna stop me." Dean's brows raised at the challenge. "Look, Dean. We're both after the same thing here."

Dean nodded a bit, thinking how this could be resolved when his pain in the ass brother was being so fucking stubborn. Sam wasn't going to come with him. That was obvious. He knew Elena well enough that she wouldn't stay for this. She had her bag over her shoulder and was ready to go.

_Fine_.

"I know," he said, and grabbed his duffel. "But we're going. You want to stay? Stay."

Elena followed him to the door, casting Sam another apologetic look, and he nodded slightly. He wasn't mad at her, maybe a little annoyed she didn't take his side, but he understood her trust in Dean.

"Sammy, be careful." Dean's voice was quiet from the doorway, but it was both a warning and a plea. He turned around and met his brother's gaze.

"You too."

* * *

><p>She waited until they were out if Erie to ask, "So who's Bela?"<p>

"She's a conniving bitch."

"Ah."

She almost thought he wouldn't continue, but he actually explained how they had the misfortune to meet her, and how she continued to reappear and disappear from their lives, bringing complications and chaos with her. She was a thief, and selfish, and good at what she did. But above all else, she couldn't be trusted.

"Dean…she's a thief and all, and she's been a real pain in the ass. I get that. But killing her?"

"Look, you'll understand once you meet her," said Dean. "She doesn't care about anyone but herself, and she'll do whatever it takes to get what she wants. Things like morals don't fit in her quota."

She didn't have anything to say about that, so she remained quiet.

"However she tries to con us, don't buy it," he warned. "Just follow my lead once we find her, and we'll get this done."

"But what's in Canaan, Vermont then?"

Rufus Turner, apparently."

* * *

><p>That scotch came in handy. For five minutes it was the third degree, but once the bottle came out as a peace offering, Rufus was happy enough to let them in.<p>

"Bottoms up," Dean said once they were inside and sitting at a small table. Rufus chuckled as he poured for Elena and himself after Dean, and clanked glasses with them.

"You know, I don't even bother drinkin' unless it's this stuff," he confessed. "Nectar of the gods, I'm tellin' you."

"Yeah, it's a nice change, ya know," said Dean, "Most of my whiskey comes from a plastic jug."

They laughed, and Rufus put the cork back on the bottle.

"So, Bela was here because…"

"She wanted to buy a couple of things…which is gunna take me some time to round up."

"Where is she now?" Rufus hesitated.

"Kid, can I as you somethin'?"

"…Sure," Dean said.

"You got three weeks left," said Rufus. "Why are you wasting your time chasin' after that skinny, stuck up English girl?"

To say Dean and Elena were surprised wouldn't cover it. But unknowingly, their thoughts both ran to Bobby as the culprit.

"Who told you 'bout that?" Dean asked. Rufus sipped at his drink and leaned in.

"I know things," he said. "I know a lot of things, about a lot of people."

Dean's smile was beginning to fade at Rufus' tone. Elena could only stare at the man and watch for what Dean would do.

"Is that so?"

"I know ain't no piece shooter gunna save you."

Dean took a swig of whiskey.

"What makes you so sure?" he asked.

"'Cause that's the job, kid," said Rufus, his expression no longer jovial. "Even if you scrape yourself out of this one there's just gunna be something else down the road."

His gaze shifted to Elena.

"Folks like us? There ain't no happy endin'…we all got it comin'."

Dean nodded slightly, then offered a humorless grin.

"Well, ain't you a bucket of sunshine."

Rufus gave a mocking smile and leaned back.

"I'm what you have to look forward to if you survive." He drank nearly the end of his glass. "But you won't."

* * *

><p>"It's not worth it, Lena. Just get in the car."<p>

"That _son of a __**bitch**__._" She could kill something right now. Never had she met a more infuriating, callous person. The only thing holding her back from turning around and knocking through that old man's door was Dean's hand at the small of her back leading her to the passenger side of the Impala. Because he knew if he didn't follow her all the way to the door, she _would_ turn around.

"Calm down," he said when he was in the driver's seat.

"_Calm down? _Don't tell me to fucking _calm down,_ you asshole!"

Dean rolled his eyes and backed out of the driveway. They got the information they needed, strange as it was how _Rufus _got it, but they got it.

"I've got half a mind to go back there. And _give me back my knife!_"

"You'll get it back when you've got your head back on straight."

Elena made a sound of frustration and glared at him.

"You've got some damn nerve, Winchester."

He grinned and gave her a cursory glance.

"Not for nothin', I wouldn't waste a bullet on him either."

She crossed her arms and muttered something he pretended he didn't catch.

"I appreciate the thought." She looked over at him, and he smiled a little. "But we've got better things to do."

* * *

><p>They parked behind the building so they wouldn't tip of Bela before she even got to the hotel room. Dean unlocked the trunk and pulled out his own gun, plus a spare to stick on the other side of his belt.<p>

"Dean, give me your spare," said Elena. He looked over at her slowly, trying and failing to hide his confusion.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I can cover you better if I have one."

But now that he knew what it cost her every time she held one, he was reluctant.

"Lena, you don't have to—"

"_Dean,_" she said firmly, but her eyes guarded. "When I ask for a gun, it's because I'm sure. Give me the damn gun."

"All right," he relented, and handed her his spare. She tucked it in the waistband of her jeans and threw the hem of her shirt over it. "We'll take the stairs."

They were able to break into her apartment and take Bela by surprise. Elena was a bit taken aback by Dean's ferocity, but considering everything he told her, she could understand the anger snapping at its leash. He anticipated the concealed gun behind Bela's back and he searched the apartment thoroughly while Elena kept her on gunpoint.

She was short, shorter than Elena with mousy brown hair. But her eyes were sharp and unreadable and cut through Elena as if she weren't standing there.

"I told you I don't have it."

"Yeah, I'm gunna take your word for it," Dean answered, sarcasm dripping from every word, and shoved a hand through Bela's suitcase.

A shot rang out, the sound reverberating throughout the room, and Dean spun around with his gun aimed. There was a hole in the door by her shoulder.

"He told you not to move," Elena said while keeping her gun aloft. She didn't have to look at her hands to know they were shaking. The shot had been an accident, despite what Dean told her about giving the woman a warning shot if she moved an inch, but Elena _could _aim.

Every muscle in her body was tense. Too tense. She didn't know this woman, how she would react, but she knew that even if Bela still wasn't afraid of Elena, right now, she was afraid of Dean. That was probably enough.

Bela regained her breath and sighed, and Dean nodded, going back to rifling through the expensive looking carrier bag.

"It's gone. Get on a plane if you must." Dean gave up on the suitcase and searched the room for any other kind of hiding spot. "Track down the buyer and you might find it."

Dean's jaw clenched. He moved toward her and aimed his gun, allowing Elena to stand down. She silently let go of her breath and found relief in that.

"Are you going to kill me?" Bela asked, staring at his face blankly.

"Oh yeah." Elena could hear in his tone and see that, while he was obviously pissed to the nth degree, he wouldn't shoot to kill.

"You're not the cold-blooded type."

"You mean like you? It's true. See, I couldn't imagine killing my parents," Dean said flatly. Elena caught a shift in the other woman's gaze.

"I don't know what you're talk—"

"Yes you do. You were, what, fourteen?" he asked knowingly. "Folks died in some shady car accident, police suspected a slashed break line, but it was all too crispy to tell."

Bela's expression remained indifferent.

"Cut to little Bela—oh, I'm sorry, _Abby_…inheriting millions."

Her face slackened, just a little.

"How did you even—"

"Doesn't matter."

Something flickered in her eyes before she looked down, let out a breath. It caught Elena's attention. But when Bela looked back up at Dean, the brief vulnerability was gone, replaced with a mild smirk.

"They were lovely people," she said, her accent lilting her words. "And I killed them. And I got rich. And I can't be bothered to give a damn."

Her smirk deepened.

"Just like I don't care what happens to you."

Elena blinked and Dean had Bela pressed against the wall, his arm pressing against her neck hard enough to be uncomfortable while his gun was poised against her throat.

"You make me sick."

Bela didn't blink.

"Likewise."

Dean backed away from her, this time aiming his gun true. He would've shot too. But his eyes caught the dried plant placed just over the door. It looked familiar.

He knew Elena was behind him. He knew she thought he was better than this.

Maybe he was.

Or maybe she already had her express lane ticket downstairs.

"Nah," he lowered his arm with a smirk. "You're not worth it."

* * *

><p>"Hey."<p>

"_Hey…did you get the Colt?_"

"What do _you_ think?" said Dean as they drove down the highway. Both he and Elena were tense and in sour moods after the crap-load of nothing they just got, but Dean had to check in, even if he'd rather avoid his brother's "I told you so" over the phone.

"_Then Bela's…_"

"No, no. She deserves to die a thousand times over, but I couldn't do it. I'm really screwed, Sammy," Dean admitted, despite Sam trying to tell him otherwise. "Ya know, Bela was a goose chase, Colt's gone…and this time I'm really screwed, Sam."

"…_Maybe not…Dean, I found Benton's cabin._"

"You okay? Was he there?"

"_Yeah._"

"Did you kill him?"

"…_No._"

"What do you mean, '_no?_'"

"_Dean, please just listen for a second. I found his lab book, it has the formula._"

"What, the 'live forever' formula?"

"_Yeah!_" He sounded optimistic, but Dean was less than enthused. Even so, he caved at Elena's insistence to put the phone on speaker so she could hear.

"All right, lemme guess. I've gotta drink blood out of a baby's skull?" Elena shot him a disgusted look, and he rolled his eyes.

"_No,_" Sam laughed. "_That's the thing, it's not black magic. There's no blood sacrifice or anything…it's just science, Dean. Very, very extremely weird science, but…_"

"Whoa, wait a second. What are you saying?" Dean asked. "You think…"

"_Yeah, I think it might be doable,_" said Sam. "_I mean, I know we've hit a lot of walls, but I think this formula—I think it might be it. This could __**save**__ you._"

Dean was momentarily speechless as he and Elena looked at one another, eyes wide. But after a few seconds he forced his mouth to work.

"Okay, so this formula…"

"_Right, well, we're not out of the clear yet. There are still some things that I don't get, but—_"

And then Sam cut off, muffled sounds coming through the speaker. Dean and Elena looked at one another in both alarm and confusion.

"Sam?" asked Dean. When the muffled sounds became accompanied by some thrashing and rustled fabric, his voice became more urgent. "_Sammy?_"

Then the line cut off.

It took all of one second for Dean to step heavy on the accelerator.

* * *

><p>Finding Sam was the easy part. The location of the old, broken down barn was in an open tab of Google Maps on Sam's laptop. But no matter how many times Dean shot the bastard, he wouldn't go down, would barely even flinch. Even when Dean stabbed the good old doctor right through the heart, that mismatched, ghoulish face only laughed and kept the knife in place as he stood. He grabbed Elena by the arm when she tried to sneak past him to help Sam, bloody fingers staining her skin, and shoved her hard into a mess of wooden crates against the wall.<p>

"What part of immortality…do you not understand?"

Dean breathed easier when he heard her groan and begin to lift herself out of the broken wood. He smirked at Benton.

"Good. That means it should be pumping strong," he held up a bottle of chloroform, "sending this stuff all throughout your body."

"No…" Benton groaned, but his body eventually swooned and fell against a metal cabinet.

* * *

><p>"Oh. Hiya, Doc," Dean said, leaning over their captive with a smirk. Sam and Elena stood on the other side of the table, making sure the restraints were strong. "Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey."<p>

"Please…" Benton begged.

"Please, what? You've been killin' poor bastards for over a hundred fifty years and now you've got a request? Shut up."

"You don't understand, I can help you. I know what you need—"

"I'm gunna have to cut him up into little _bits_, this mortality thing is a real _bitch_," Dean said, looking up at the other two with a wide grin. Sam barely tried at a smile while they stood right next to the table he was just strapped to an hour ago.

"I can read you the formula," Benton hedged, piquing Sam's attention. "You know…immortality, forever young. Never dying."

Dean paused. It gave Sam the courage to try and get his brother's attention.

"_Dean…_"

"Sam," he warned. But Sam walked away into the other room, making Dean and Elena follow him.

"What?" Dean asked.

"I mean, we're talking Hell in three weeks not needing a new pancreas in half a century."

"Yeah, you can't exactly get those at a quickie mart," Dean shot back.

"It's not perfect, but it buys us more time to think of something better."

"…Yeah, but can you reverse that kind of quick-fix?" Elena pointed out. They were all desperate to find an answer, but she couldn't see Dean becoming…_that_. What was lying on that table, seemingly helpless, after over a century of massacring people to patch up his own skin and insides.

"We just need time, just please…think about it," Sam begged.

Dean shook his head.

"No."

Sam's eyes widened, his lips pursing in frustration.

"Dean, don't you want to live?"

"What he is isn't living," Dean refuted, "Look, this is simple."

"_Simple?_"

"To me, it is, okay? Black or white, human, _not _human." Dean walked back into the room, Benton's eyes following him. "See what Doc is, is a monster. I can't do it…I would rather go to Hell."

He dunked a cloth with some more chloroform.

"You don't understand," said Benton. "I can _help._ _You._"

Dean held the cloth over the Doc's mouth while Elena held down his shoulders, even as the old man struggled. Dean met his brother's eyes.

"I'm gunna take care of him. You can either help me or not, it's up to you."

* * *

><p>"Enjoy forever, Doc," Dean said to the desperate, angry shouts coming from the refrigerator lying in a six-foot hole. Bolted with chains and a lock, neither Benton or his journal were getting out for a long time. Especially after they buried the hole in dirt.<p>

They made a quick dash to the motel to get their stuff and head out, getting about two states over by the time Dean called the motel room. Bela picked up.

"Hiya, Bela. Here's a little fun fact you might not have known: I felt your hand in my pocket when you swiped that motel receipt," said Dean.

"_You don't understand—_" She sounded pressured, desperate. But he didn't care.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I understand perfectly," he said. "You see, I noticed something interesting in your hotel room. Something tucked above the door. An herb? Devil's shoestring?"

He heard her sigh.

"There's only one use for that…holding hellhounds at bay. So you know what I did? I took another look at your folks obit, looks like they died ten years ago today." There was silence on the other end, but he knew she was listening. "You didn't kill 'em. A demon did your dirty work. You made a deal, didn't you, Bela? And it's come due."

Still silence.

"Is that why you stole the Colt? Tryin' to wiggle out of your deal? Our gun for your soul?"

"_Yes_," came the thick reply.

"But stealing the Colt wasn't quite enough, I'm guessing."

"_They changed the deal…they wanted me to kill Sam._"

"Really? Wow. Demons, untrustworthy," Dean said offhandedly. "Huh. _Shocker…_That's kind of a tight deadline too, what time is it?"

**11:58.**

"Aw, look at that. Almost midnight."

She finally broke down, and he heard her tears through the phone as she said, "_Dean, listen, __**I need help.**_"

"Girl, we are weeks past help."

"_I know I don't deserve it—_"

"You're right, you don't. But you know the bitch of the bunch is?" Dean asked over her soft sobbing. "If you would've just come to us sooner, and _asked_ for help, we probably could've taken the Colt and saved you."

"_I know, and saved yourself_," she admitted. "_I know about your deal, Dean._"

"And who told you that?"

"_The demon that holds it…she holds mine too. She says she holds every deal._"

"She?" said Dean.

"_Her name's Lilith._"

"Lilith?" Dean repeated, shooting Sam a look. "Why should I believe you?"

"_You shouldn't but it's the truth._"

"This can't help you, Bela. Not now, why're you telling me this?"

"_Because just maybe __**you**__ can kill the bitch._"

Go figure.

"I'll see you in Hell."

* * *

><p>They stopped in South Bend, Indiana at some no name motel, in the middle of a busy town for once. But before the motel, Dean parked in front of a liquor store.<p>

"Dean, what're we doing here?" Sam asked. If Dean wanted a drink, or hell, to get wasted, why didn't he just go to a bar?

"What does it look like, Sam? Goin' grocery shopping."

"Sure you don't just want to go to a bar?" Elena asked. That way it'd cost more to get more drunk than they could afford…she'd seen Dean hit the bottle a little too hard before on a night he thought she and Sam were asleep.

"No," he said, surprising her. Because usually he was all for the dive atmosphere; scoping the talent and kicking back. "But we're taking a night off."

And apparently, that meant beer and real whiskey, followed by tequila for the hard hitters. Mainly because he knew Sam couldn't resist tequila.

Pretty soon they were sitting at a plastic table in the middle of the motel room. Shots were being kicked back in doubles, triples, and Dean was more than a little light headed. He turned down the music that was playing after he realized that it wasn't his head pounding in that rhythm.

"Deeean," Elena whined as she examined a shot glass. "I'm bored. So bored."

"You drank half your size, what more you want?" he remarked dryly.

"What about a game?" Sam offered. Elena's face lit up, but Dean frowned.

"She's not gunna be able to focus on the cards," he said, thumb pointing in her direction. She gave him a peeved look through narrowed eyes.

"How _dare_ you?" she hiccupped, "'M fine."

He only gave her a deadpan look.

"Fine…oh, what about that one," she said, "That one I can't remember it's name…you ask a question and the other person…that person tells the truth or has to do whatever they tell 'em to do."

"Truth or Dare?" Sam asked with a smile, trying to make sense of what she was saying.

"Yeah! That one," she said. Dean groaned.

"Oh come on, it'll be fun!"

"Lena…"

"Please, please, pleeeease, Deeean," she begged. He grimaced as she put all her weight on his shoulder and clung there, making herself sufficiently in his personal space. "It'll be like, a real sleep'ver!"

Because he had the practice of holding his liquor much better than her, he actually considered the request with a good amount of clear-headedness, though there was that part of his brain that was a bit fuzzy. He had to focus harder than he was used to if he seriously wanted to consider the probable consequences of what the game would bring. But because he wasn't really in a position to be thinking of later consequences,

"Sammy, you wanna play?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"Truth or Dare," Elena said excitedly. Sam looked tipsy, but not quite drunk. He'd hit the tequila light this time around, not wanting the hangover he'd had the last time. So he raised a brow at his brother.

"Really?"

Dean shrugged with a deadpan expression. Meanwhile, Elena was bouncing in her seat. She took one of her empty beer bottles (of which there were surprisingly many) and set it in the middle of the table.

"Who wants t' spin first?" she asked.

"You can, Lena," Sam said, smiling in amusement. She was clearly a happy drunk.

"Okay!" And then her face was pure concentration as she positioned the bottle _just_ right, then spun. It landed on Sam.

"Kay, Truth or Dare. And if you take the dare you can't change your mind!" she warned.

"Hmm," Sam thought on it for a second, taking a sip of beer for good measure. "Think I'll go with truth."

Elena bit her lip with a pensive look on her face. Her head cocked to the side, and the brother's eyes met over their drinks.

"Let's start off easy," she said. "What was the _craziest_ thing you ever did?"

Sam grinned, while Dean snorted. The memory came easily enough.

"We've done a lot of crazy things," Dean said.

"But it's gotta be when I jumped off the roof when I was little. Dean said I was Superman and I could fly." Elena gasped, looking at Dean in horror.

"He was dumb enough to believe it," Dean remarked, taking another large gulp of whiskey even though it burned.

"You would be the one telling people to jump off bridges," she murmured, but gestured for Sam to spin next.

"Here we go," Dean griped when it landed on him. And before Sam could ask, "Dare."

His brother raised both brows, an "are you sure you're sure?" look.

"Go ahead. Bring it on," Dean goaded him. Maybe that had been a bad idea. That's how he found himself with his fingernails painted red. Plus, there were _sparkles_ in it. _**Sparkles.**_

"And that's gunna be a bitch to get off later," Elena said, her speech only slightly slurred. "Gets red all over your fingers."

"…Well that's just _great_."

Dean hadn't been the best champ throughout the whole process, but on the bright side, he was _ready _to take his turn. When it landed on Elena he was half disappointed, but also half glad. He could get her back for making him look like a drag queen.

"Truth or dare, Shortstop," he taunted, and she almost leaned over to hit him on principle. Well, she would've, but her depth perception was off by a mile and the attempt almost had her on the floor tumbling out of her chair. Sam and Dean helped her up even though Dean was having a hard time while laughing so hard, but eventually she was able to answer, "Truth."

"Okay…" His expression turned mischievous, his smirk making Elena nervous. "How'd you get your cherry popped? And when."

Her eyes widened large as saucers. Sam spluttered into his beer.

"_Dean!_"

"Why you wanna know? 'Sides, that's two questions," she complained.

"It's a valid question! No take backs," Dean said firmly with a grin, pointedly ignoring Sam.

"Ugh, fine you pervy…perv. I was," she thought hard, "Eighteen, and we'd been together for…I think a year. Dad was always gone, so we went to my house after seeing a movie. One minute we're making out on my sofa, next we're in m' room and I can hear the neighbors' dog barking at us the _whole_ time. Wasn't exactly date of the year."

Sam was a bit more successful at restraining a snicker than Dean, forcing it back into an amused smile.

"You need the play-by-play or are you good without the hot and heavy details?" she asked sarcastically. Dean shot her a wry look.

"Nah, I'm good. Thanks."

"Kay. Well then, it's my turn."

The game went on for several rounds, gaining higher in stakes as they drank. It went from Dean admitting to getting caught stealing from a department store by the police to Elena revealing that while on a solo hunt, she once pretended to be a hooker to catch a shapeshifter that was very particular in his tastes.

And yes, Dean, she still had the clothes. No, asshole, she wouldn't give him a private demonstration.

Sam having to strip down to his boxers was a highlight, at least for Elena. Dean had thought it would be funny to see his little brother embarrassed, and it was, until Elena, inebriated as she was, couldn't stop staring at the younger man's chest and abdomen. Sure, she didn't usually think of Sam like that. But she was a woman. She had eyes.

"It's a bit cold in here," Sam complained. Dean was tempted to make Sam put his clothes back on, just because he was sick of that weird look on Elena's face being made toward his brother. But she spoke up before he could.

"You gotta live with your dare 'til we end the game!" she exclaimed, and gestured Dean to take his turn.

"…All right, Elena. Truth or Dare."

"Hmm…don't want end up like Sam. Truth." Not that either Sam or Dean would ever make her strip to her underwear in front of them, but it managed to make Sam blush.

"I dunno…you got a phobia?" he asked. She blinked.

"Phobia…like a biggest fear?"

"Sure."

"Umm…" This one she obviously knew, but she looked like she was having a hard time saying it. He realized that may be a little too hard for her, considering what he knew of her and her past, so he tried to correct the situation.

"That's a dumb question, lemme think of a better one—"

"No…it's okay," she said, a bit quieter and less enthusiastic as before. "Um…I don't really like the dark all that much, if 'm by myself. Being alone in the house, I used t' leave the hallway light on at night."

"Really?" Sam asked. He couldn't say he'd never been there when he was little, knowing about the things they did, the stories their dad would sparingly tell them to make sure they knew how to protect themselves while on their own.

"Yeah," she said, then brightened as it was her turn to spin. She liked watching the brown bottle go round and round. It made her dizzy to look at for too long though.

"Dean, Truth or Dare?" Dean sighed.

"Truth, I guess."

"Okay, I'ma think of a good one…" She bit her lip in concentration and pulled at a strand of her own hair. Dean could see she was getting tired. Good thing too. That meant this could end soon.

"Dean… you ever been 'n love?"

Dean swallowed the whiskey too hard and had to rub his chest for the feeling of heart burn to fade. Sam fell oddly silent, watching his brother's reaction.

"Um…you serious?" He met her eyes then, light grey and piercing, and strangely serious for how much alcohol she'd consumed. He wanted to sigh, to turn away from that stare. It was too much. But he kept her gaze.

"Once."

"What happened?"

His mouth curved slightly into a deprecating smile.

"Didn't work out."

"'M sorry." Her words were slurring, but her eyes were honest. His smile became slightly more genuine.

"It's okay."

She smiled, but her blinking started slowing, and she yawned.

"Finally tired?" he asked.

"…Yeah."

Dean looked over at Sam, who nodded and reached down to get his clothes from the floor. Sam blearily made his way to the bathroom and shut the door behind him. The guy had been drunk, but he was a bit more sober now than he had been. It was Elena that probably needed help.

"Can you make it to the bed?" he asked, his head clearing somewhat of its alcohol-induced fogginess.

"I thought I had…couch."

"Nope, you're getting the bed tonight. I'll take the couch," he said, and moved over to her. Despite her protests, he lifted her out of the chair bridal style. She held onto him tightly, curling her body closer to him.

"Don't worry, I gotcha," he assured, and started walking her over to the bed with the goal of not losing his balance.

"Dean…Dean-o."

"Hmm."

"You've got a grouchy face sometimes…" Her finger poked his cheek, and he raised a brow, fighting a smile. "But I like it."

"'S that so?"

"Yeah…some p-ple think you're…like that all the time. But I know th' truth."

He laid her down on the bed and stretched the covers over her.

"What's that?" he humored her.

"You're a good guy," she smiled lazily. "Really good, Dean-o…"

"Hmm, thanks," said Dean, finally letting the smile loose. He was about to move away from the bed and let her sleep, but to his surprise, she grabbed onto his hand.

"Dean…" Her voice was small and pleading, and he was surprised to see unshed tears in her eyes. "I don' want you to go."

"I'm right here, Lena. Just gunna go to the couch—"

"_No_. I mean, I don' want 'em t' _take_ you…like Bela."

He stilled. His smile faded and she gripped his hand tightly with both of hers.

"I don't," she insisted, blinking glassy eyes. It kind of felt like a sucker punch to his gut. "…I don' wanna miss you. 'Nd I don' want Sam t' miss you. So…you don' give up, kay?"

He looked down at her, trying and probably failing to contain the emotions he felt roiling inside him. When he made no move to answer, Elena shook his hand a bit.

"Kay?"

"…Okay."

"Promise?"

Only then did a tear escape, rolling down her cheek. He wanted to sigh.

_This is why I let her come?_

He should've known she'd get hurt in the end.

"Promise."

"…Okay."

And just like that, she was smiling and letting go of his hands to burrow into the covers. He brushed strands of hair away from her forehead. She hummed happily and pulled the sheets close to her body.

"Kay…" She snuggled into her pillow and was basically out. He shook his head and made his way over to the couch, and didn't bother with all the empty bottles at the table.

_I'll make Sam clean up that shit in the morning._

* * *

><p>Sam made his way to the only empty bed. He'd changed and brushed his teeth, but he didn't feel comfortable. He saw Dean, in a deep sleep on the sofa, face peaceful for once, but still drawn. Sam wanted to scream. Throw things. Shoot things. Destroy something with his bare hands, because in three weeks, he would lose his big brother. It wasn't fair. Not after his mom, after Jess. After his dad.<p>

He glanced over at Elena, also sleeping soundly. She'd had it right. Sam didn't want to miss his brother.

He scrubbed at the sting in his eyes and got into bed, falling heavily on the pillow.

_It's not fucking fair._


	9. Line of Fire

**AN: We're approaching the halfway mark on this, so please let me know what you thought, or if you have any requests for future chapters, any questions you'd like answered. Those kind of things could maybe be clarified in either the chapters to come or possibly in a one-shot. **

* * *

><p><em><strong>Do You Recall<strong>_

_IX: Line of Fire_

For the past week or so, she'd had a sense…oh, let's call it a vibe, of something. Something she wasn't supposed to be seeing, but it was there. Like how conversation (that sounded heated) between the boys would suddenly stop when she entered the room. Or maybe, more specifically, it was how Sam wouldn't quite meet her eyes, Dean _almost _overcompensating for normal. Or at least, what had become their normal in the past month and a half. Though now with only one week left, they were more urgently searching for Lilith, leaving no lead unchecked and letting no demon by without asking a few questions.

Elena also noticed that as days passed, Dean got more and more edgy, and understandably so. She just didn't know that it was for more reasons than one. Not until they'd been on the road for about ten hours, and she woke up from her doze. She saw the directional sign on the side of the road and yanked her headphones off. They were in Iowa, heading north.

"Dean, where are we going?" She'd learned never to say things like, "I think we're going the wrong way," or "weren't we supposed to make that turn half an hour ago?"

At least not when Dean was driving.

"Southwest."

"That sign said we just past Coralville, going northwest."

"What?" She couldn't see most of his face, but the eyes that peered at her through the rearview mirror were dismissive. "Weren't you sleeping all of one minute ago?"

"Didn't we agree on Colorado?" she pressed. When he didn't answer, she glanced at Sam. He was staring resolutely at the road, arms crossed over his chest. That vibe was a full on siren now.

"Would someone tell me what the _hell_ is going on?"

She saw Dean's hands grip the wheel tighter, and something dropped in the pit of her stomach. Her expression hardened, lips pulling in a thin line.

"Stop the car."

"…Elena—"

"_Stop the goddamn car!_" She reached for the door handle, and that's when Dean finally acted, swearing and jerking the car to the side of the road before she could rip the hinges off the door. By the time he and Sam got out of the car, Elena was on her way over to Dean in purposeful strides. Sam came around the other side and stood by his brother.

"You _asshole! _You're taking me to Sioux Falls," she hissed. "After everything—"

She made an aggravated sound and forced herself to plant her feet, even though her hands were itching to slap him over the head.

"Look, sorry we didn't tell you right from the jump, but it's easier this way—"

"_Easier?_" she laughed. "Well _fine_. If I'm such a liability, I wouldn't want to get in your way."

Dean sighed, while Sam shook his head.

"That's not what he meant," he tried to placate, but she shook her head.

"You know, the whole reason why I came was to help you—"

"And you did." Green eyes met angry, slate gray. "But it's enough, Lena."

"What do you mean, 'it's enough?' We're still trying to track down Lilith!"

Dean's thoughts trailed to the sheriff's station Monument, Colorado. How hard they had to fight to get out alive. How in the end, they'd fought to save no one but themselves. Because one demon had found them and blown up the entire building.

"I'm saying it's enough for you," he said firmly. "You're not coming."

There was shock in her eyes, but Dean smothered any guilt that was cropping up. He'd rather she hate him and be alive than dead trying to save a dying man.

"And why the fuck not?" she demanded.

"Because I told your dad's best friend that Sam and I'd make sure you were okay," he said, loudly enough to quiet her. "We almost got you killed, Elena."

He'd apologized to Jack's grave that night, both for failing to save him and for bringing his daughter back into the supernatural world. But the closer they got to finding the bitch that sent him to Hell, the more Dean realized how far in Elena was getting with them. This was only supposed to be a few weeks, not a few _months_. She was supposed to go back to her life, not put in on hold for a guy she hadn't seen or heard from in years. Despite what she thought, Elena didn't owe him any favors. She'd risked her life enough for him as it was.

"And Lilith?" he said. "Not your garden variety demon. Makes that bitch we ganked in Utah look like a preschooler."

"It's not that we don't want you with us," said Sam. "It's that we shouldn't."

Elena's expression was stony. Dean had never seen it like that before, or at least not directed at him.

"Let me tell you something," she said flatly. "You're not my father, but you're sure acting a lot like him. I'm _**not**_ a little girl that needs protecting."

"Maybe not," he allowed. "But you and I—we made a deal, remember?"

_I'm not dragging you into this any more than I already have_, he into the hellish nightmare that was his life—especially when his nightmares were about to become reality in a little over a day. Especially when she had a chance to get out, no matter what Rufus said. Even now Dean remembered that nice little conversation with brutal clarity.

"_Folks like us? There ain't no happy endin'…we all got it comin'."_

If he did let her keep going with them, she'd never be able to get out again, and she didn't _get it_.

And maybe when this was over, Sam could have a shot at the normal life he wanted. He secretly hoped Elena would stay friends with Sam and keep in touch with Bobby, sure, but go home.

"You know," she said, the anger in her eyes sparking. "You really ought to stop making deals."

His eyes widened marginally, teeth grinding and jaw clenching in effort not to let his temper take control. But _damn it_, she wasn't making it easy.

"I said, you're done."

"I say, fuck that."

"Why are you in _such_ a hurry to get yourself killed, huh?" he shouted.

"You don't get it, do you?" Her hands went to her hips and her voice rose to match his. "When people care they don't just _walk away_, especially when it's the shit that matters. _You_ taught me that. So either I get back in the car with you and the _three of us_ drive to Colorado, or leave my ass here and I'll catch my own damn ride."

For a long, tense moment, it was a battle of wills. Dean wanted to shake her by the shoulders until she saw sense, but before he could say anything, his phone started buzzing loudly in his pocket.

"…Bobby?"

"_I've got a lead._"

* * *

><p>"New Harmony, Indiana," said Bobby. The giant pendulum looking thing had its arrow pointed to the small town on the map, but Elena hardly believed it was that easy. Sam was ready to jump in the car and go after Lilith, while Dean popped bubble after bubble as to why going in halfcocked was a terrible idea.<p>

"I mean first of all, we don't even know if Lilith holds my deal," he started, "We're seriously going off of Bela's Intel? When that bitch _breathes_ the air comes out crooked, okay? Second, even if we could get to Lilith, we have no way to gank her. And third, isn't this the same Lilith that wants your giant head on a pike, should I _continue?_"

"Well aren't you just bringin' down the room," Bobby remarked.

"It's a gift."

"Okay, then what are we supposed to do?" Sam asked in aggravation.

"Just 'cause I gotta die doesn't mean you have to, all right? Either we go in smart or we don't go in at all."

"Okay fine. If that's the case, I have the answer," said Sam. Dean gave him a skeptical look.

"You do?"

"Yeah, a surefire way to confirm it's Lilith, _and_ a way to get us a bonafide demon-killing weapon—"

"Damn it, Sam, _no_," Dean rebuffed, and turned away from him. Elena looked over at Sam, and saw that he was completely done with what he probably saw as Dean refusing to help himself. Elena knew Dean was only doing it for their sake, but what Sam proposed was actually the most logical, even if the last thing they wanted to do was deal with demons to gank demons.

"We are _so_ past arguing," Sam snapped, "Dean, I'm summoning Ruby."

"_The hell you are!_" Dean exclaimed, turning back around to face his brother. "We've got enough problems as it is!"

"Exactly. And we've got no time and no choice either."

"Come on, man, she is the Miss Universe of lying skanks, okay? She told you that she could save me, huh? _**Lie**_," Dean countered. "She seems to know everything about Lilith but forgot to mention, oh right, _**Lilith owns my soul**_."

"Okay, fine. She's a liar," said Sam. "She's still got that knife—"

"Dean," Bobby cut in, where Elena remained quiet. She never knew how to butt in when they got like this.

"For all we know she's working for Lilith!"

"All right, well give me another option, Dean! I mean, tell me _what else is there?_"

"Sam's _right_," said Bobby.

"_**No**__, damn it!_" said Dean, making the other two quiet. He shook his head. "No…we are not making the same mistakes again."

His eyes flicked from his brother, to Bobby, and then Elena.

"I'm done with making deals," he said. Elena's mouth dropped open a little, shame making her drop her gaze. "If you want to save me, find something else."

He went to Bobby's table where small piles of books littered the surface and sat down, opening a book to start researching again.

"Where are you going, Bobby?" Sam asked while the older hunter threw on his jacket behind him.

"I guess to…find something else," he said, and went out the door. Sam looked down at Elena and saw the worry in her eyes. The fact that she was standing there, even when they'd tried getting her here under other motives, was a testament to how much she was willing to give to save his brother and be with them in this. But Dean had been right about one thing. No matter how they did it, it wouldn't be by bringing Bobby or Elena down with them.

"Can you stay here and help my brother? I'm going to see about something," he said quietly. She looked up at him knowingly.

"Sam…"

"We're going to save him, Lena." His tone was firm, but she could see the desperation in his eyes. "We _have_ to."

Elena bit her lip and shook her head…but let him leave. If there was a chance that Sam was saving Dean by doing what he was going to do, and she stopped it, Sam would never forgive her. But if he was wrong, and it cost them everything…

She would never forgive herself.

* * *

><p>For ten minutes they flipped through dusty books in silence, occasionally reading off something interesting, but going back to skimming when they realized the information wasn't useful. Every minute that passed by was one that Elena wondered (with a growing sense of unease) what Sam was doing. She knew he was somewhere outside, and part of her wanted to blurt it out to Dean already. But the man was so focused on the page he was reading, who was she to interrupt him? Besides, like she <em>really<em> wanted to be the one he got pissed off at for letting Sam go in the first place.

"Okay, so we know this keeps hellhounds at bay," Dean said, gesturing to the page. She looked over and saw a picture of an herb and recognized it as Devil's Shoestring. "But for how long?"

"Hmm, I think for a few hours," she said. "Maybe half a day."

"There's gotta be something that lasts longer than that."

"Well, I've got a volume on herbs and spells here. Let me comb through it," she said, and peeled back the worn leather cover. The dust it spread into the air made her wrinkle her nose, and after turning a few pages past the table of contents, she sneezed, unwittingly blowing more dust around. She groaned, and heard Dean's small chuckle. She looked over at him through narrowed eyes.

"What are you laughing at?" He was looking down, trying not to smile. A grin tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"Nothin', just you getting snot all over Bobby's books."

"Oh, shut up." She grabbed a napkin from under a beer bottle and blew her nose.

"Classy," he remarked. She rolled her eyes, but otherwise ignored him. "You find anything yet? Or are you too busy coating the upholstery?"

Elena balled up the napkin and threw it at him. He laughed even as he made a face of disgust when he caught it, looking at the crumpled, poor excuse for a used tissue in his hand.

"This is gross," he declared, and chucked it haphazardly across the table.

"No more than you and your brother's laundry when it's been in your gym bags for weeks," Elena said with a grimace. "Your socks—ugh. You must reuse them like, three times."

"Nah. Like five at least."

She made a sound of revulsion and he cracked a grin. It didn't take long for it to fade.

"Where _is_ Sam, by the way?" he muttered. "I saw him head out back…"

Dean checked his watch, and that uneasy feeling she had came back again.

_I fucking knew it_, he thought, with that sinking feeling that came when he didn't want to be right.

"It's been…what, fifteen, twenty minutes?" he asked. She nodded, trying to immerse herself in the tome. But she could practically feel Dean's eyes on her, analyzing her face and body language like he did _all._ _The fucking. Time_. It annoyed the shit out of her because she knew he was reading her like a book.

"…Elena."

"What?"

"Where's Sam?"

Her eyes flicked up to his, and the question vanished, replaced with anger.

"_Damn it_, Elena!" He got up out of his chair so fast that the legs squeaked against the wood floor.

"You're fucking dying!" she exclaimed, standing up with him. "You got any better ideas?"

"Than calling _that_…anything would be better!" he said, gesturing widely with his arms. "I thought you knew that."

"Yeah, it's not the best, Dean," she conceded. "But it's all we've got short of the spices in the pantry and some table salt!"

Dean made a sound of frustration, clenching his fists.

"You don't want anyone of us to get caught in the crossfire, I get it," said Elena. "But we don't have to trust her—"

"And what, just use her? That's exactly what Sam said before. And guess what?" said Dean. "She lied better. That's what demons do. They lie."

He shook his head.

"I expected this from Sam. He's too fucking stubborn for his own good. But you?"

"Ooh, don't do that," she glowered, pointing at him. "_Don't._ I'm only here because of _you_. So don't you dare try to make me feel bad about helping your brother save you from _**eternity in Hell!**_"

Dean's glare softened, just a little. Now both of them were pissed and it wasn't getting them anywhere.

"Fine," he said tightly. "Then let's go find him."

Elena followed him out the door and around the back. They didn't find Sam around the junkyard, but the farther around the house they went, the more they could hear conversation. It sounded heated, and sounded like it was coming from the old shed where Bobby's used to do most of his maintenance on the cars that would come in. It was big enough that it could've been a barn at some point before Bobby bought the house, but now it was much too far gone to house any livestock, let alone any cars.

Dean signaled to her, and she stayed close behind him.

* * *

><p>"You can save your brother…and I can show you how."<p>

"So that's you, huh? A slutty little Yoda."

Sam turned around slowly, inwardly wanting it to be anyone else but Dean behind him. He almost sighed at seeing Elena. He should've known Dean would get it out of her sooner than later.

"Dean," said Ruby, her blue eyes less than amused. "Charming as ever."

"Oh, I had a feeling you'd show up," he said, drawing more out of the shadows with every step. "'Cause I knew _Sam_ wouldn't _listen_."

Sam shifted, and he glanced over at Elena who gave him a half apologetic look.

"But you're not gunna teach him anything," Dean finished. "You understand me? Over my dead body."

"Oh, well you're right about that," she said, brows raised.

"What you are gunna do is give me that knife," he said. "Then you're gunna crawl back into whatever slop you came from, and never bother me or my brother again. Are we clear?"

"Your _brother_ is carrying a bomb inside of him and we'd be _stupid_ not to use it."

"Dean look, just hold on—"

"_**Sam**_. _Don't_," Dean warned, and Sam closed his eyes. He knew this was how Dean would react, he knew. But Sam would try the hardest he could to make his brother see reason.

"Come on, man, what are you, blind? You can't see that this is a trick?" Dean asked.

"That's not true—" Ruby interjected, but he ignored her.

"She wants you to give into this whole demonic, psychic, whatever okay? I mean, she probably wants you to become her little, antichrist superstar."

"I _want_ Lilith dead," she corrected. "That's all."

Dean nodded with a mocking smile. One that disappeared with the flat question, "_Why?_"

"I've _told_ you why!"

"Oh, right yeah. Because you were _human_ once. And you like kittens and long walks on thebeach."

"You know, I am so _sick_ of proving myself to you," Ruby said, getting closer to Dean. He only smirked at her. "You want to save yourself? This is how, you dumb, spineless _dick_."

Dean nodded and turned, began to walk away, but spun around and punched Ruby square in the jaw. It drew blood, and despite Sam's urging not to, she swung back, catching Sam with swift jabs when he tried to pull her back. Slamming his face against her knee, she let him sink to the ground.

She then blocked Elena's punch and threw her against the wall, but had to duck away from Dean. She aimed a kick at his abdomen, sending him backpedaling. Ruby followed it up with a few punches that had him on the ground, then a swift kick to his stomach. He rolled away and got up, until she kicked him down again. He looked up with a smirk, though his teeth were bloody.

"What the hell are _you_ grinning at?" Ruby asked, breathing heavier. He started getting up and held her knife in his hand.

"Missing somethin'?" She glared angrily.

"I'll kill you, you _son of a bitch_."

A force stopped her from coming at him. She was confused until looking up, coming face to face with a Devil's Trap.

"Like I said," Dean's smirk deepened. "I had a feeling."

He began to walk away from her and held out a hand to Elena, who accepted it, getting up shakily. She'd slammed her head against the stone wall.

"Wait," said Ruby. "You're just gunna leave me here?"

"Let's go, Sam."

They started the long climb up the stairs.

"Oh, so you're just too stupid to live, is that it?" she said. "Then _fine_. You _deserve_ Hell. And I wish I could be there, Dean. I wish I could hear the _flesh_, sizzle off your _**bones**_. _I WISH I COULD BE THERE TO HEAR YOU __**SCREAM!**_"

"Yeah, well I wish you'd shut your pie hole," he shot back. "But we don't always get what we want."

* * *

><p>"Hey, Bobby. When'd you get back?"<p>

Elena trudged into the kitchen and grabbed an ice pack from the freezer. He did a double take from his seat at the table.

"What the hell happened?"

She joined him at the table and pressed the pack to her temple.

"Ruby's a bitch."

"…I see."

"Any luck?"

"A big fat nope."

"Great. Well, on the bright side, we've got the magic knife." Bobby raised a brow.

"What are the boys doin' then?" he asked.

"Cleaning themselves up now, but I think we were waiting for you before taking off," she said. "Oh shit, they asked me to come over here to get…some beers."

Bobby gave her a skeptical look.

"Oh yeah?" he asked. "Then why do I hear a motor runnin'?"

She paused, listened. Then…

_Those fuckers_.

Elena pursed her lips and started to get out of her chair, but Bobby got up at a more sedate pace, gesturing for her to calm down.

"They ain't goin' anywhere," he said, and held up what she was sure was a car part, though she didn't know what it was. Probably something important. "Let's go round 'em up then."

* * *

><p>Bobby rapped on the driver's seat window, startling Dean.<p>

"Where you think _you're_ going?"

Looking very much caught red-handed, Dean looked from Bobby to Sam, and the two eventually got out of the car. Dean almost grimaced at Elena's steaming glare, but instead he focused on Bobby's expectant look.

"We got the knife."

It didn't look like he cared all that much.

"And you intend to use it without me. Without Elena." He gave the brothers a dry look. "Do we look like ditchable prom dates to you?"

"No, Bobby, of course not," Sam said with a shake of his head.

"This is about me and Sam, okay?" said Dean. "This isn't your fight—"

"The_ hell _it isn't!" Bobby exclaimed. He stepped towards Dean as his anger and frustration finally broke through. "_**Family**_ don't end in blood, _boy_."

And then as soon as it had come, the anger ebbed back when Bobby stepped away.

"Besides," he said. "You need…all the help you can get, really."

"Bobby—" Dean protested.

"You're playing wounded. Tell me, how many hallucinations have you had so far?"

Sam and Elena looked to Dean in both confusion and suspicion as to why he hadn't said anything, because if the look on his face was any indication, Bobby hit the nail on the head.

"How'd you know?"

"Because that's what happens when you've got hellhounds on your butt," Bobby snapped. "And because I'm smart."

He handed Dean the missing car part with a fake smile.

"I'll follow," he said, and headed toward his car. "Don't be stopping to pee every ten minutes either."

Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

That left the two with Elena.

Dean sighed when she remained standing with her arms crossed, an expectant look on her face.

"Look, we're sorry—" She brushed past him and climbed into the backseat of the car. He shared an exasperated look with Sam before replacing the part and getting back into the driver's seat. Dean only flinched a bit at a slap to the back of the head, while Sam yelped a little. He kind of half expected it. And the muttering from the back seat.

"Shut up and drive."

He rolled his eyes and pulled out of the salvage yard.

* * *

><p>Elena tried for all she was worth to tune out Sam's "in case this doesn't work out" speech. It would just be reminding her with more clarity what was already nagging at her. She wasn't surprised when Dean shut that down quickly. But she couldn't stop the smile tugging at her lips at the two of them warbling out Bon Jovi's <em>Dead or Alive<em>.

Then they heard police sirens behind them.

"We getting pulled over?" Sam asked. Dean checked his left side mirror.

"I've got a busted taillight," he said. "It's not like we're in a hurry or nothing."

The policeman stepped up to the driver's side once they were pulled over, a man in his mid-fifties asking for Dean's driver's license and registration.

"You do realize you've got a taillight out, Mister…Hagar."

"Yes…yes, sir," said Dean. He looked up at the officer and paused. "You know, I've been meaning to take care of that…as a matter of fact—"

He opened the door sharply, right into the policeman's knee. The guy shouted out in pain and fell to the ground.

"_Dean!_" Sam and Elena called out to him, shocked still for a moment before they jumped out of the car. But Dean stabbed the man under his chin, shocking the demon inside to death.

Bobby jerked to a stop behind them and came running.

"What the hell happened?" he exclaimed.

"Dean just killed a demon," Sam said, still looking stunned.

"How did you _know?_" Elena asked. Dean looked back at them wide eyes.

"I just knew," he said, but she saw the fear there, both in his eyes and the slight shake of his voice. "I could see his face. His real face, under that one."

…_Great, _she thought.

* * *

><p>"So you're seeing demons now?" Sam asked as they did their best to hide the police car in leaves and branches. They'd already buried the body.<p>

"I've been seeing a lot of things lately," said Dean. "But nothin' like this."

"Actually, it's not all that crazy," said Bobby. Dean paused and gave him a disbelieving look.

"How is it not that crazy?"

"Well you've got what, five hours to go? You're piercing the veil, Dean. Glimpsin' the B-side."

Dean blinked at him.

"A little less New Agey, please."

Bobby rolled his eyes.

"You're almost Hell's bitch," he said. "So, you can see Hell's other bitches."

"_Bobby._" Elena gave her uncle an incredulous look, while Dean smiled mockingly.

"Thank you," he nodded. Bobby shrugged as if to say, "_What more do you want?_"

"Well, it's actually coming pretty handy," Sam commented. Elena gave him the same look she gave Bobby.

"Yeah, well, glad my doomed soul's good for something."

"Damn right it is, Lilith's got demon's crawlin' all over town," said Bobby. "We can't let 'em sound the alarm. If she knows we're here we're dead before we've started."

"Oh yeah, this is a terrific plan," Dean deadpanned. "I'm excited to be a part of it. Can we go, please?"

* * *

><p>"It's the little girl," said Dean. They stood far enough away to look into the front windows of the house, but not be seen. AKA: the empty house across the street. "Her face is freakin' awful."<p>

"Well, then let's go," said Sam. "We're wasting time."

"_Wait,_" Dean insisted, grabbing hold of Sam's jacket. Even though they'd just witness an old man having his neck twisted.

"For what? For her to kill the rest of them?"

"And us too if we're not careful." Dean turned back to watching the house. "Look. There's a real go-getter mailman. Really, at nine PM? And Mr. Rogers over there."

Sam looked into the binoculars and saw an older man sitting in his living room in the house next door, flipping through a book.

"Demons?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Okay, fine. We-we ninja past those guys and sneak in!"

"And what, give a Columbian necktie to a ten-year-old girl? Comeon."

"Look, I know it's awful—"

"You think?"

"But this isn't just about saving you, Dean," said Sam. "It's about saving everybody."

"She's gotta be stopped, son," Bobby added, and no matter how much Elena didn't like it, she nodded as well. Dean glanced at all three of them.

"…Damn it."

* * *

><p>"All right, Sam and I will take 'em down without tippin' off Little Miss Sunshine," said Dean, leaning against the kitchen counter. "You've gotta find the pipes and time it right."<p>

"Ain't that hard," said Bobby. "The box is right behind this house, over by the sidewalk."

"Okay…I guess this is it then." Dean nodded at Bobby and Elena, then at his brother and headed for the living room where the front door was.

"Boys," Bobby called after him.

"Yeah, Bobby?" Sam asked.

"You be careful." The corner of Dean's mouth quirked upwards, but he didn't promise anything. Sam didn't either, but gave Bobby a small smile.

Elena watched him walk away without a goodbye. Because they all wanted to hope it _wasn't_ goodbye.

But goddamn it.

"Dean!"

He and Sam stopped short before the door and turned to see her rushing toward them.

"What—"

"I know you don't want to deal with the sappy crap, but if you walk out that door without…I mean, I swear to God I'll—"

Elena stopped short before she made a bigger fool of herself, because she didn't know what it was she wanted to say. She could've laughed at Dean's bewildered expression if it were any other day.

But eventually he grinned a little.

"I made you a promise, didn't I?"

Her eyes widened, but she nodded. She was pretty sure she knew what he was talking about. Some parts of that night a few weeks ago was fuzzy, but it wasn't the most drunk she'd ever been in her life.

"Wait for me."

She nodded and let him go. It still wasn't goodbye, and that was all she needed.

* * *

><p>Elena and Bobby snuck behind the house and blessed the water in the pipelines. She held the lid open while Bobby recited the incantation and dropped the crucifix into the water. Once he finished, she let go of the lid with a grunt. Her fingers were red with the strain of pulling it back.<p>

"I think you read it slow on purpose," she muttered.

"If that was hard, you need some more work on those noodle arms."

"Or you just didn't want to do it yourself, you old man."

"You watch it. This old man'll kick your ass."

"All right, Grandpa, keep it moving—" She glanced out the window and paused. "Oh shit."

"What?" Bobby asked, coming to stand next to her. "_Shit._"

Apparently, the boys hadn't managed to keep things quiet. Nearly a dozen of them were after them, but they were nearly to the house where Lilith was terrorizing the small family.

"Time to turn on the heat, then," he said, and they hurried back to the pipes. There were maybe ten different switches and knobs, but eventually he found the right one to turn. The sprinklers.

Elena laughed as the demon's shrunk back, hissing and screaming in pain.

"That'll keep 'em off their ass," he said with a smirk.

But fifteen minutes later it was 11:55, and Sam and Dean hadn't come out yet.

"They're taking too long," Elena said, worrying at her bottom lip. Bobby looked at his stopwatch and muttered a curse. The holy water would only work for another five minutes.

"Bobby we've got to get in there. We've gotta help them!" Elena started for the door, but Bobby stopped her.

"And how are we supposed to get in there," he said, "with a bunch of demons in the front yard?"

"We'll sneak around back—"

"How? There's a fence surrounding the house. To get in we'd need to get past the bomb squad over there."

"_Damn it_, Bobby, I'll scale the goddamn roof if I have to," she exclaimed, "In five minutes _**Dean is dead.**_"

"_Don't you think I __**know**__ that?_" he said, matching her volume. "Don't you _think_, that everything I got inside me is screamin' to bulldoze _straight through_ the lot of 'em?"

She blinked and swallowed past what she knew would be coming soon, shut her eyes against the telltale sting.

"I didn't get this far in my miserable life by being dumb." Bobby looked at his niece in the eyes. "And I'm not about to lose the only family I got left."

Elena was at a loss for words. The only thing she could do was turn away from the intensity of his stare, out the window to the one across the street, past the lawn of sprinklers. And suddenly she saw Dean being flung onto the dining room table, and a glimpse of blonde hair pass by window. Then Dean was gone, and a solitary figure stood with an eerie smile.

"_Ruby_—Bobby, _**it's Ruby!**_" she shouted, and the two watched as a flash of light engulfed the room. When it dissipated, Ruby was no longer smiling. Elena looked down at her watch.

**12:00**.

Before Bobby could stop her, Elena was running out the door, gun in hand. Strangely, the demons were nowhere to be found, even though the sprinklers were still on. She was half drenched by the time she got to the front porch and threw the door open, but when she did, she stopped short, her breath catching in her throat.

Ruby was gone.

And Sam was kneeling on the floor, beside Dean.

"_Nice to see you too, Lena," said the first, the one she recognized. She could see he was a bit uncertain. "…Remember me?"_

_She came back to herself, shaking her head apologetically._

"_I'm sorry. It's just…"_

"_Bit of a surprise, I know," he said, waving it off. There was a teasing glint in his eyes when he said, "Sorry about that. But I'll understand if you'd rather we hit the road. There's gotta be something to take care of in the next town over…"_

_Again she shook her head, this time wryly._

"_It's good to see you, Dean."_

She heard Bobby walk in behind her, but couldn't tear her eyes away from all the blood. His chest…ripped open. And his face…_God_, his eyes were open and lifeless.

"_I didn't come just because Bobby asked me to," he said bluntly. "You need help, so I'm here."_

_After a moment she broke into a smile, ruefully shaking her head. He really hadn't changed all that much. _

"_Thanks, Dean."_

_He cracked a small smile too._

"_Anytime."_

Sam's devastating cries reverberated in the room, tearing her apart with each new breath. Water dripped from her clothes and onto the polished wood floor, especially as she knelt on the other side of Dean's body (wincing with a shudder at what was now soaking her jeans) while Sam cradled him. Elena didn't realize her face was wet with tears until they too, dripped down.

The floor was ruined anyway.

"_You don't have to…do this alone, you hear me?" His green eyes bore into hers. "Either way, it ain't easy, but…we've got your back, all right?"_

_Again, Elena nodded, dabbing at her face with her sleeve. _

"_Yeah…I hear ya."_

_He cracked a smile at her._

"_Good. Let's get Sammy and grab some breakfast," he said, and steered her back to the room by her shoulder. "I want me some eggs and bacon."_

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice breaking._ I'm sorry I couldn't do the same for you. _

"I'm s-sorry…"

"_I don' wanna miss you. 'Nd I don' want Sam t' miss you. So…you don' give up, kay?"_

_When he made no move to answer, Elena shook his hand a bit._

"_Kay?" _

"…_Okay."_

"_Promise?"_

"_Promise."_

"…_Okay."_

Elena brought her hands to her face, curling her fingers into her hair. She wanted to kill something.

"Y-You _promised_…" Her voice was heavy and coarse, and it made Sam flinch and squeeze his eyes shut. She set a hand on his shoulder to both steady him and apologize.

"_Wait for me."_

_You __**promised**__, goddamn it!_ Her mind screamed. _And I fucking waited, damn you. I waited._

And then she felt horribly guilty.

Because Dean was already damned.

And he wasn't coming back.


	10. Forever in Blue

**AN: So I'm not sure if there are many people reading this story. But if you are please let me know so I know if you want me to continue. I've got some ideas to shake up future chapters, but if you have any requests, I'll consider those too.**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Do You Recall<strong>_

"_In a fantasy of my anticipation__  
><em>_I knew there was no consolation,"_

—_Journey, "Forever in Blue"_

_X: Forever in Blue_

Sam didn't hear the door open. Didn't even blink when grocery bags were placed on the table right behind his open laptop.

"I brought lunch."

He spared a cursory glance.

"It's all right," he said, and continued scrolling down on the article he was reading. "I'm not hungry."

There was a pause.

"But I brought you a chicken salad sandwich…see? It's got tomato and everything."

He kept reading.

"…_Sam._"

"_What_, Elena?"

He finally looked up at her and didn't look perturbed by her deep frown.

"You need to eat. And not just some granola and a bottle of water every few hours," she said sternly, and deposited the plastic bag right into his lap. "Give your eyes a rest for ten minutes."

"I can't," he said stubbornly, shaking his head. "I found this newspaper article—"

"Sam," she interrupted, but more gently. "It'll still be there after—"

"_**And so will Dean!**_" he shouted, stood up from his chair roughly. "I can't stop, not when I know he's…"

Elena ignored the painful stab that brought. Seeing him like this made her heart ache, but she was trying. She was trying hard.

"We've gone from motel to motel for two months. Sam, you're not getting any sleep—"

Neither was she, but that was beside the point.

"So that's it. You're done? What, you want to give up?" Sam asked. His hair was unbrushed, and she could see the stubble on his usually clean shaven face, the dark circles under his tired eyes.

"Of course not," she sighed heavily, preparing the same tired words she'd been using for weeks. "But…maybe a break. Sam…you're running yourself into the ground—"

"Dean would _never_ stop. Not if it was me," he glared at her accusingly. "So you want me to sit around, take a nap? _Fuck that, Elena_."

"_You_," said Elena, "are _killing yourself! _He wouldn't want—"

"_Don't you dare_," Sam shouted, "Don't you _dare_ tell me what he would've wanted. He told me to keep fighting and that's what the hell I'm going to do. If you don't like it?"

He leaned over the table, mere inches from her face.

"Then get out."

Elena stared into his hard, angry eyes. They'd had variants of this conversation before, all of them ending with Sam getting angry or turning on her with his grief in his eyes. Then Elena would give up. More often than not she'd stay up with him until the early hours of the morning, on the computer or nose-deep in some book. But never once had he told her to leave.

She _wanted_ to be mad at him. But all she saw was a deeply wounded boy that wanted his brother back. That didn't mean his words didn't hurt, though.

"You don't mean that."

"Wanna bet?"

She sighed, and gave him a hard look.

"Sam, I wouldn't be here if…if I didn't care."

He ignored her and shifted his eyes away from her face.

"I just don't want to see you do this to yourself."

He didn't look up at her again as he started scrolling through the small words on his screen. His head was pounding, and his eyes burned, but it didn't matter. He knew what he needed to do, and he didn't need anyone to help him.

"No one's asking you to stay," he said coldly. Out of the corner of his vision he could see her face darken.

"You're so fucking stubborn, you know that?" she said, a little more snappish than she intended. "Keep going like this and you're damn well going to break down. And then what? Everything your brother did for us—for _you—_"

Sam slammed a fist on the table and snapped his furious, bloodshot gaze up at her.

"You've got no damn right to stop me," he said. Dark hazel met stormy grey in a tense stalemate, one hard and unyielding, the other angry, but sad.

Finally, grey blinked and turned downwards, frustrated brows furrowing, before returning in resignation.

"Fine."

She threw her things into her duffel bag, but on her way out, she placed the sandwich on his lap. Plus a bottle of Coke and the baked whole grain chips he liked.

"Eat that. I spent eight-fifty on it."

She tossed him her motel key and walked out the door, got into her Camaro and drove. She didn't know where she was going, but she pacified herself with the thought that Sam had her on speed dial.

* * *

><p>Elena didn't know how she ended up on Bobby's front porch. She really didn't. But he opened the door and looked surprised to see her.<p>

"Hey…sorry I haven't called." Her voice was shaky, even to her own ears.

"It's…no problem," he said, but looked confused. "Where's Sam?"

"He, um…he decided he wanted to keep going on his own, and I…" Her eyes fell to the ground. Suddenly she felt a lot more lost without Sam. She just knew she didn't want to be alone. "I didn't know where else to go."

"…Well, come on in already."

She smiled hesitantly and followed him inside. It faded when she got a good look at the place; beer bottles littered the small dining table and much of the available counter space. There were empty Chinese takeout boxes on the table next to the bottles.

"Want a beer?" Bobby asked.

"I'm fine," she said, dumping her bag on the couch. She joined him in the kitchen and marveled at how many stains could be on one stove. "When was the last time you cooked?"

"Uh…" He gave her a look. "Do I look like Betty Crocker to you?"

She smiled, shaking her head.

"Have you eaten dinner yet?"

"Nope. It's only four."

"Good. That means I've got time to clean."

"Clean?" he asked skeptically. "When was the last time _you_ cleaned something more complicated than dirty dishes?"

Her smile kicked up into a grin as she shrugged.

"Never too late to learn."

* * *

><p>By seven o'clock, the kitchen and living room weren't spotless, but the beer bottles and used containers were in the trash, the dishes were done and set on the table, and the stove and counters were clean enough to use. Bobby's cupboards were mostly empty, save for some canned food, a couple boxes of spaghetti and a bag of rice. Elena settled with spaghetti because he had the sauce, and after getting up on a small step ladder she could reach the back of the pantry for some parmesan cheese.<p>

"How'd it come out?" she asked him after five minutes of relative silence, save for the television playing some kind of 60s movie Elena had never seen, but Bobby seemed to be enjoying.

"Beats takeout," he said, but his hand kept reaching for the spoon in the pot for another helping. And if he touched the half-drunk bottle beside his plate a little less, then that was enough for her.

* * *

><p>"This is Supervisory Special Agent, Jessie Manning. How may I help you?"<p>

Elena drummed her fingers on the desk.

"Yes, Agent Mercer has been conducting this case for the past three weeks. It would be in your best interest to allow him to see the body," she said. "I cannot disclose the full nature of the investigation. I'm sure you understand."

Inwardly she sighed in relief when the police officer on the other line begrudgingly gave in.

"Thank you for your cooperation," she said, and hung up the phone. "That's like, what, eight calls in the past half hour?"

Bobby came in from the kitchen and handed her a plate full of sandwich and Pringles.

"You said you wanted a 'more or less' stable job," he shrugged. "I could send you back out with Roy and Walt."

Elena shook her head immediately.

"Walt gives me the creeps."

"Any particular reason why?" Bobby asked.

"I dunno…you get the feeling he likes the job a little too much," she said, and took a bite out of her sandwich. She chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then wrinkled her nose.

"Did you put mustard?"

"Yeah, why?"

"_Ugh_. Bobby, you know I hate mustard."

"If it bothers you so much, get off your ass and make your own damn sandwich," he said around a mouthful of ham and cheese. "Tastes fine to me."

"You don't put mustard on ham!"

"Says who?"

Elena sighed and got up to head over to the kitchen. Maybe she could scrape the yellow paste off with a napkin.

"You know what? Forget it."

"Good. And while you're up, get me that book on Greek mythology over there," he said, pointing to the shelf on the far wall. "Wilkins thinks he found a harpy."

"A harpy?" she asked, deciding she'd wiped off as much mustard as she could. She'd just add more pickles to distract from the sharp tang. "I thought those things were in Greece."

"Not all creatures stay in their hometowns, 'specially if they're ancient," Bobby explained, and glanced at the old clock on the wall.

"Don't you gotta be somewhere tonight?" he asked. Elena's eyes widened in realization as she set the book down next to his glass of water.

"Oh yeah. My ride's getting here at five," she looked at the clock, then took a few more hurried bites of her sandwich with some chips. "Damn it, it's two thirty."

"You've got nearly three hours," Bobby said, rolling his eyes. But by now he knew his niece well enough to know that she'd need every minute. "Maybe if you were more of a girl and less of a perfectionist, you'd take less time to paint your nails."

She stilled. Familiar words echoed in her mind.

"_About time, princess. Stop to repaint your nails?"_

"Yeah well," she said eventually, after she'd unstuck her tongue from the roof of her mouth. "If I need any lessons, I'll just ask you."

"Oh, _that's_ rich." If he noticed her falter, he didn't comment. "Just don't use up all the hot water. You're not the only one who likes to be clean around here."

"Could've fooled me," she shot back. "This place was a dump when I got here."

He snorted.

"You kiddin'? This place is _still_ a dump."

Elena shook her head with an amused smile, but headed upstairs to what was now her room on the left. Just to spite him, Elena took her time in the shower. She got out before the water started to get cold though. Toweling off her hair, she decided on a V-neck blue top with a black skirt. She knew she would be talked into wearing heels eventually, but for now black flats were it.

Bobby, damn him, was unfortunately right on most occasions. Makeup always took her forever, so she stuck with the basics: foundation, mascara and eyeliner…and fine, a little blush to give her some color. It was more than she did in a normal day. While on the road these past few months, eyeliner and mascara was usually all she had the time or energy for before they were out the door for the next case.

Her hair though, was an animal. Blow-drying it was a bitch, and took the longest out of anything since she had so much hair. It was thick and nearly to her waist now.

_I seriously need a haircut_, she thought, and considered pulling a pair of scissors out of the bathroom drawer, but thought better of it. With her luck, she'd end up butchering it.

Almost an hour later, she was basically done, just ironing out the kinks on the top layer with the brush rolled in close to her head.

That was when she heard the shouting and loud thumps against the wall. She immediately shut off the dryer.

"_I'm not a shapeshifter!_"

Elena froze. That voice…it was familiar. But more importantly, Bobby was in trouble.

She took the stairs two at a time on the way down, stopping in the middle to survey the damage.

"Bobby—"

What she saw instead made her trip, nearly rolling her ankle when she landed on the last step. Her ass ached, but in reaching for a weapon she drew out her hairdryer.

Bobby looked all kinds of stunned, but wasn't him her eyes were glued to. It was Dean Winchester, standing in the middle of the living room in jeans and a buttoned down shirt rolled up on the sleeves, looking a bit worse for wear, but…_alive_.

_It can't be._

It looked like him. But there was no way.

"Lena," the imposter said. "…It's me."

"Y-You…" she brandished the hairdryer with wide, scared eyes, "S-Stay back!"

His mouth twitched upward.

"You're gunna blow me to death?"

That was definitely a crappy joke he would make.

So it sounded like him. But it wasn't. And why wasn't Bobby doing anything?

"It's him, kid," he said, and she could've sworn she saw unshed tears swimming in his eyes.

Elena shook her head, and the motion painfully reminded her that her brush was still lodged in her hair.

Her hands shook when "Dean" started moving towards her, slowly. When he knelt in front of her, he gently pried the dryer from her hands and set it down from the floor, then grasped her hands and helped her stand.

"Bobby tested me with silver already," he said. "I dunno how it happened…but I'm back."

He then gently pulled the brush out of her hair and offered it to her. Eventually, she took it.

And she tossed it away.

Elena threw her arms around his neck and he grunted at the impact, but wrapped his arms around her back, chuckling. She felt the vibration of it through her chest, and maybe she had to wipe away a few (a lot of) tears. But she felt herself smiling, especially when he put her down and looked down at her with a grin on his face.

"But…how?" she asked, still teary-eyed. His skin was covered in dirt, that much was certain.

"I don't know," he confessed, letting go of her. "I just—"

Water splashed in his face, and he closed his eyes, spitting the rest out.

"_Bobby,_" he heard Elena scold. He wiped his eyes and stared at the older hunter blankly.

"I'm not a demon either, ya know."

"Sorry…can't be too careful," Bobby said with a shrug. He handed Dean a towel to clean the rest off.

"So anyway," Dean continued, "I…I woke up in the dark, in a pine box and…after I busted myself out, I was standin' in front of my grave."

"But that don't make no lick of sense," said Bobby. Dean shrugged and tossed the towel over his shoulder.

"You're preaching to the choir," he replied.

"You didn't see anyone?" Elena said, concern coloring her tone.

"No one…"

That was when he finally got a good look at her. His brows furrowed a little.

"You goin' somewhere?" Dean asked. He'd never seen her dolled up before, didn't even know she _owned_ a skirt. Her eyes seemed brighter, her face with a bit more glow than he remembered. Was she wearing _makeup?_ "You look good."

Suddenly she was a little sheepish, her gaze averting from his.

"Oh, um…yeah," she said, then her smile became a little more playful when she looked back up at him. "I've got a date."

His expression slackened.

"…Oh yeah?" he asked, his brows shooting up. He forced a teasing smile. "Anyone I know?"

"Hmm," she pretended to think. "I don't think so."

And then, conveniently, there was a knock at the door. Elena checked the clock.

**5:05**

"Wow, on time for once," she muttered, and went to the door. When she opened it, Dean became even more confused.

"You're five minutes late!" Elena griped. A young woman about Elena's age rolled her eyes, blowing a strand of auburn hair away from her face and pulling large black sunglasses to the top of her head.

"You've _gotta_ be kidding. You're worse than my mother. Honestly, it takes me like six hours to get here. You should be grateful I make the effort to come pick your ass up," she said, giving Elena a friendly kiss on the cheek and walking in, toting a brown leather purse with manicured nails. "Hey, Bobby. I'm stealing her for the night, but I'll bring ya back a bottle of whiskey as compensation, kay?"

And then she looked up with dark blue eyes that zeroed in on Dean's surprised face. Hers mirrored his, but with an underlying edge that made Elena grow wary.

"You didn't tell me you were bringing a party favor."

Dean's eyes widened marginally, and Elena's face was comical.

"_Val_, this is Dean…he's a family friend," she corrected, shooting the other woman a stern look. Val only looked amused. "Dean, this is—"

"Pleasure to meet you, Family Friend, Dean Mystery Hotness," she said, holding out a hand. He marveled a bit at the many old bracelets adorned on her wrists. They clashed with everything else she was wearing that was more refined. "I'm Best Friend Valerie Hatfield."

"…Nice to meet you," he said eventually, shaking her hand.

"Val, can I talk to you for a minute?" Elena asked.

"Sure," she shrugged, but winked at Dean as they passed. When they were in the relative privacy of the kitchen, Elena sighed as her friend looked like she was about to explode if she tried containing herself anymore.

"All right, go ahead."

"_Whoishe, wheredidhecomefrom andwhydidn'tyoutellmeabout—_"

"Okay," Elena interrupted. "I can't explain everything right now, but he's a good friend of mine I've known for a long time. He was…away, for a while…but he just got back, and if I know Dean…"

She paused, glancing over at him as he talked quietly with Bobby.

"He's going to need some help."

"Help with what?" Val asked, a little more seriously.

"First?" said Elena. "Finding his brother."

"He has…a _brother?_"

_Shit_, Elena thought.

"Forget about that for now, just…I'm really sorry but—"

"Say no more," Val said, shaking her head. "I got a hotel about two miles out. You've got my number when things are settled again, and we'll get Mystery Hottie and his brother over to _Jesse's_."

_Jesse's_ was the club the two had been going to when Val felt like making the drive up to Sioux Falls from Hill City to visit her aunt. Ever since she'd called and got back in touch with Elena, the two had gone almost every Friday and Saturday night. It was a nicer place, and the food was actually decent. Good for dancing and hitting back some shots.

Elena smiled in amusement at what it would be like to get Sam and Dean in there.

"Next time," she said. "Thanks, Val."

"No problem, sweetie," she said with a genuine smile. "Just don't forget lil' old me while you're running around all over town with Mr. Wall of Muscle. I swear to God, the back of that ass—"

"God, _please_ shut up," Elena hissed, and ushered her back into the living room. Dean and Bobby looked up expectantly.

"Sorry I can't stay," Val apologized, "But Lena's got my number whenever you wanna go out for a night on the town."

"Sorry for the short notice," said Bobby. She waved him off with a grin that deepened into a smirk when she caught Dean's eye.

"See ya later, cupcake." She winked again, and followed Elena to the door.

"I'll call you," Elena promised, and Val shook her head. Her smile was affectionate.

"That's what they all say," she teased, but hugged Elena warmly. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Shut up," Elena said with a laugh, but waited until Val was in her car before she closed the door, and looked back at Dean and Bobby.

Dean thought she looked tired.

"So," she said airily, "what are we doing?"

"…Well," Dean said eventually. Part of him wanted to say, "You're staying here while Bobby and I…"

But he had a pretty good idea of what that would get him, and Bobby would let her.

One of several phones on Bobby's desk rang before he could answer her, and she picked it up.

"Lieutenant Miller speaking," she said, surprising Dean. He looked over at Bobby, who shrugged.

"I'm not allowed to disclose that, but Special Agent Sands has been handling a case that may or may not be related," she said, sitting down more comfortably in a chair. "If you'd just give him access to those reports…yes, thank you."

She hung up and swiveled around in the chair to face them.

"Since when have you been handling the phones?" Dean asked.

"She came around a couple months ago," said Bobby, "So I put her to work. Can't have a freeloader in my house."

"And cooking and cleaning wasn't enough?" she asked, crossing her arms indignantly.

"Cookin' and cleanin' don't pay the bills," he quipped.

"And hunting does?"

"Wait, wait," Dean interjected. "You've been hunting by yourself?" She rolled her eyes.

"Sometimes. Usually Bobby sends me with whoever needs help with a case every once in a while."

That made Dean feel a little better. At least she had back up most of the time, but she hadn't done what he thought she would do either. What any sane person would do, and…well, maybe he shouldn't be so surprised. None of them were the poster children for healthy and balanced.

"Okay…so Bobby told me you were with Sam for a while after…"

Elena's expression dimmed.

"Yeah…" she sighed. "We parted ways a couple months ago…that's when I came here."

"Why, what happened?" Dean pressed, and she gave him a strained look. She wasn't about to tell him his brother had been a wreck and careening down a self-destructive spiral.

"He wanted to keep going by himself." Dean looked incredulous.

"You didn't _stop him?_ Lena—"

"_Dean_." Her brows furrowed, and he saw thinly veiled pain in her eyes. "How could I?"

…_Fair enough_, he thought, and after a while, he sighed.

"All right. Well let's find him then."

* * *

><p>Dean was able to track Sam's whereabouts to Pontiac, Illinois, the same city where Dean got out of his grave. Considering the state of the burial site, which according to Dean looked like an bomb went off, the fact that Sam was in the area was a red flag. They took Elena's Camaro and drove the nine hours from Sioux Falls to a six out of seven star hotel called Astoria, whose lights flashed brighter than anything else on the block. It was a far cry from the kind of booking any of the hunters were used to, and already it was making Dean feel edgy.<p>

After talking to the desk clerk, they found the room number and tried not to cough at the cloud of perfume swirling around in the elevator, all the way to the third floor. Once reaching Room 307, Dean knocked on the door. Soon enough it opened, revealing a short brunette wearing nothing but a grey tank top and underwear, with a slightly pissy look on her face.

"So…where is it?" she asked. The three looked at one another.

"Where's what?" said Dean.

"The pizza," she said matter-of-factly, "that apparently takes three people to deliver."

"…I think we've got the wrong room," Dean started, until Sam came into view in the doorway. He was wearing loose-fitting clothes, as if he'd just woken up. By the look of the brunette, that might very well have been the case.

"What's…" Sam stopped himself, eyes honed on Dean in blatant shock. He then noticed Elena and Bobby, but returned his gaze to Dean, who smiled softly.

"Hey, Sammy." He stepped inside the room, past the girl, and waited for Sam to relax a little.

Then he found himself being pinned against the wall and fighting off a death stroke via silver knife, and it felt way too much like déjà vu.

"_Sam, __**stop!**_" he heard Elena shout, but it was Bobby who was able to yank the taller man back, allowing Dean to back away from the wall.

"_Who are you!_" Sam demanded.

"Like you didn't do this!" Dean shot back.

"_Do what?_" And that had Dean at a loss.

"Sam, it's _Dean_," Bobby said through the strain of containing him. "_We've been through this already._" And despite Sam still holding his knife threateningly, Elena laid a tentative hand on his left shoulder to stay clear of it.

"It's really him," she tried assuring gently. Sam started to calm, but he was still wild-eyed and breathing heavily.

"But…"

"I know," said Dean, and then he grinned a bit, "I look fantastic, huh?"

Sam's lower lip trembled the slightest bit, and finally went forward to hug his brother. Elena had to avert her eyes with the sudden rush of emotion, just barely blinking back tears. Until a voice caught all of their attention.

"So…are you two like…together?" asked the brunette. Sam gave her a quizzical look.

"What? N-No," he said, and then smiled a little as he looked back at Dean. "This is my brother."

"O-Oh. Well…I guess I should go then," she said awkwardly. Maybe she realized she was half-naked in a room full of strangers.

"Uh, yeah…that's probably a good idea," Sam said with an apologetic look, "sorry."

Dean's grin was just a bit wicked when he nodded over at her. But she just raised a brow and changed in the bathroom while Sam put on a shirt that made him look a little more put together, a little more Sam-like.

"So, call me," the girl said with a smile on her way out the door with her purse, now dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt. Sam leaned against the doorway.

"Yeah, sure thing, Kathy." Her smile faded.

"Krissy," she corrected, looking disappointed. Sam's smile became a little more strained.

"Right."

She frowned and gave him a parting look before making her way down the hall. Sam closed the door behind her and turned to face the rest of them, all staring at him knowingly. He elected to ignore them and sat near Bobby on the god-awful tiger print couch and started packing his bag.

"So tell me," said Dean, crossing his arms, "How much did it cost?"

Sam looked up in mild surprise.

"The girl?" he laughed. "I don't pay, Dean."

That made Elena feel a little better, to know Sam thought himself above that. But she knew that wasn't what Dean was asking.

"It's not funny, Sam," Dean deadpanned. "To bring me back…what'd it cost? Was it just your soul, or was it something worse?"

"You think I made a deal?"

"That's exactly what we think," Bobby stated, leaving Sam looking dumbfounded.

"Well I didn't."

Don't lie to me," Dean said quietly, but the warning was clear.

"I'm not lying."

"So what now," Dean asked. He got up from where he was leaning on the wall and uncrossed his arms. "I'm off the hook, now you're on, is that it? You some demon's bitch? I didn't want to be saved like this—"

"Look, Dean," Sam cut in, standing to his feet and looking a lot like Elena remembered him when she left him: lost and angry. "I wish I _had_ done it, all right?"

Dean grabbed the front of his brother's shirt, forcing Sam to look him in the eyes.

"There's no other way this could've gone down. _Tell the truth_."

Sam knocked his hands away angrily.

"_I tried everything_, _**that's**_ the truth. I tried opening the Devil's Gate. Hell, I tried to bargain, Dean, but no demon would deal, _all right?_" Dean started to relent, but Sam wasn't through. "You were rotting in Hell for _months_,and I couldn't stop it…so I'm _sorry_ it wasn't me…Dean, I'm sorry…"

Dean saw the raw guilt in Sam's eyes, and it tore at him inside. Outwardly though, he just nodded and said, "It's okay, Sammy…"

Sam nodded, but Dean didn't think his brother really believed it.

"You don't have to apologize, I believe you."

"Don't get me wrong," Bobby interjected, "I'm glad that Sam's soul remained intact, but…it does raise a sticky question."

"If he didn't pull me out," said Dean, "then what did?"

* * *

><p>Elena took the beer Sam offered her, but right now she couldn't really look at him as he started talking about how he'd tried to track down Lilith after he "figured out" he couldn't save Dean. She didn't know what brought that about, but she could hazard a guess and say it was a couple months ago when she ditched him.<p>

_He told you to go_, she reminded herself. But for him to say, "I was pretty messed up," was more of an understatement than the two men on either side of her would ever know. And she'd walked away from him. She let Sam drift by himself without anyone to watch his back.

"Anyway, I was out in Tennessee tracking some demons. They took a hard left and lead me back up here."

"When?" Dean asked.

"Yesterday morning."

Dean and Bobby shared a look.

"That's when I busted out."

"You think these demons are here 'cause of you?" Bobby asked. Dean shrugged; it was a possibility.

"But why?" said Sam.

"…I dunno. Some badass demon drags me out and now this? It's gotta be connected somehow."

Bobby regarded Dean through slightly narrowed eyes.

"How you feel anyway?"

"…I'm a little hungry."

"No, I mean do you feel like yourself?" Bobby asked. "Anything strange or…different?"

"Or demonic?" Dean finished dryly. "Bobby, how many times do I gotta prove I'm _me?_"

"Listen, demons ain't lettin' you loose out of the goodness of their hearts. This has gotta be somethin' nasty planned."

"Well, I feel fine."

"Okay, well we don't know what they're planning," Sam pointed out. "We've got a pile of questions and no shovel. We need help."

"Like who?" said Elena.

"I know a psychic, few hours from here," said Bobby. "Somethin' this big, maybe she's heard the other side talkin'."

"Hell yeah, it's worth a shot," said Dean. Bobby got up to make the call, saying he'd be right back, and Dean got up, only waiting at Sam's insistence.

"You probably want this back," he said, and took Dean's amulet from around his neck and gave handed it to his brother. Dean looked at it in disbelief at first.

"Thanks," he said.

"Yeah, don't mention it…" Dean waited, because he knew that look. Sam was itching to say something.

"Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"What was it like?"

"…What, Hell?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know…I don't remember anything," said Dean after glancing over at Elena. She wasn't paying attention, sitting on the couch while idly checking her phone. "I must've blacked it out."

"Well…thank God for that," said Sam with a small smile.

"Yeah…"

A flood of images entered his mind, and he tried hard to shut them out. As long as Sam didn't see anything in his eyes…none of them would ever have to know.

* * *

><p>Bobby's friend was about four hours out by the interstate. Elena had been ready to lead the way in her Camaro, until Bobby took the keys from her.<p>

"_You ride with them. Make sure they don't stop for too many bathroom breaks."_

That old man. He knew her now, and she wasn't altogether used to it. But she was sure he wasn't used to her catching onto him either. In the first few weeks of her staying with him, he'd bring back four to five bottles of assorted liquor at a time, be it whiskey or bourbon or whatever flavor of the night he felt like. Elena left the beer in the fridge, but of the hard stuff, she'd locked all but one of them in one of his old safety boxes and bought a new lock for it. She wouldn't put a new bottle out until he'd been at least three days with the first, and then she kept on adding time in between until he was down to just beer and a fifth of whiskey a couple times a week.

Somehow it worked. He never once picked the lock, even though she knew he could have easily broken it open.

"There's just one thing I don't understand," said Dean. "The night I bit it…or got bit."

No one laughed at the "joke."

"How'd you make it out?" he asked Sam. "I thought Lilith was gunna kill you."

"Lilith?" asked Elena.

"Oh…yeah, you weren't there for that," Dean explained. "Lilith took over Ruby's meat suite before she sicked her dogs on me. But she was headed for Sam next."

"Yeah, she tried, but she couldn't," said Sam.

"What do you mean she couldn't?"

"She fired this like…burning light at me, and…it didn't leave a scratch," he said. "Like I was immune or something."

"Immune?" Elena asked.

"Yeah…I don't know who was more surprised, her or me." He sighed. "She left pretty fast after that."

"Huh…how about Ruby, where is she?" said Dean.

"Dead, probably," Sam said with a shrug. Dean nodded.

"So you've been using your freaky ESP stuff?" Sam looked at his brother incredulously.

"No." Dean gave him a sideways look.

"You sure about that?" he asked, "I mean, now that you've got…immunity, or whatever that is. Just wondering what other kind of weirdo crap you've got going on."

"Nothing, Dean," Sam said in exasperation. "Look, you didn't want me to go down that road, so I didn't go down that road. It was practically your dying wish."

Dean nodded, turning back to the road.

"Yeah well, let's keep it that way."

* * *

><p>Pamela Barnes was five feet and seven inches of spitfire, and the Winchesters and Elena knew it from the moment she opened her front door and hefted Bobby into a crushing hug, then invited the rest of them in with a flirtatious smirk toward the boys.<p>

"So you hear anything?" Bobby asked.

"Well, I Ouija-ed my way through a dozen spirits," she said, closing the front door behind her, "but no one seems to know who broke your boy out, or why."

"So what's next?"

"A séance I think. See if we can see who did the deed."

"You're not gunna summon the damn thing here…"

"No," she grinned, and walked past them into the next room, "I just want to get a sneak peak at it. Like a crystal ball without the crystal."

Sam and Dean shared a look and shrugged.

"I'm game," said Dean, and started following her with Sam behind him. Elena caught Bobby's pensive look.

"What're you thinking?" she asked quietly. He looked back at her and frowned.

"I dunno."

"There's still time to pull back from this," she reminded him.

"Should be harmless enough," he said after a moment, "if we're careful."

"His loss," Elena heard Dean say as she and Bobby walked into a room of book shelves and a round table in the center, and Pamela looking up at Dean with a candle in her hand.

"…Could be your gain," she said, eyes roaming his body appreciatively before setting the candle on the black cloth-covered table. Elena rolled her eyes at the look on Dean's face when he and Sam turned around, whispering to one another like high school girls. She busied herself by helping Bobby close the curtains.

"You're invited too, Grumpy," said Pamela. She winked at Sam and went to retrieve more ingredients from the shelves. Dean looked over at Sam sharply.

"You are not invited," he hissed. Elena failed to smother a snicker at Dean's expense, and he glanced at her sheepishly as she raised a brow at him.

When they were all sitting around the table, Pamela instructed them to hold each other's hand.

"Now, I need to touch something our mystery monster's touched."

Dean's knee jerked, hitting the table as he jumped a bit.

"Whoa, he definitely didn't touch me there!"

"My mistake," she laughed. Sam had to look down as he fought a smile, and Elena shook her head while Bobby rolled his eyes. But all mirth died the moment Dean shrugged his jacket off and rolled up the left sleeve of his shirt, revealing a large, red handprint of raised flesh on his shoulder. It startled both Sam and Elena, who stared at it with wide eyes.

Even Pamela's playful mood dimmed into seriousness as she laid her hand gently on it and began the séance.

"I invoke, conjure and command you, show me your face," she repeated the phrase over and over, earning the name "Castiel," and a warning to turn back. The table and walls shook as she kept going, and the rest of them looked at one another in apprehension.

"Maybe we should stop," Bobby interjected. He had a bad feeling.

"I've almost got it," she refuted, and kept up her mantra. "I command you, show me your face! _Show me your face, __**now**_—"

The flames from the candles in the center of the table shot upward, and the sound of something being seared echoed in the room, along with Pamela's agonized screams. Blood streamed from her eyes as she looked into the fire and she slumped, falling from her chair onto the floor. Bobby immediately went to her.

"Call 9-1-1," he barked, and Sam got his phone out. Dean and Elena knelt beside where Bobby held Pamela. Her eyelids were severely burnt, and when she tried opening her eyes, they were hollow.

"Oh God, I can't see," she gasped, sobbing without tears.

"_**I can't see!**_"


	11. Edge of the Blade

**AN: Thank you to those who reviewed on the last chapter. Your feedback was really appreciated!**

**ElectroKate: Thanks so much! It's definitely worth it, and I'm glad you like how I'm developing her character. I'm trying to make her a bit more three-dimensional than some of the OC stories I've been reading while still keeping the brothers and Bobby and everyone else in character.**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Do You Recall<strong>_

_XI: Edge of the Blade_

Dean and Elena sat in a nearly empty diner, dejected and guilty. Sam came back to the table after hanging up his phone with news that Pam was stable in ICU. And because of them, she was blind.

"And we still have no clue what we're dealing with," said Sam.

"That's not entirely true," said Dean. "We've got a name, Castiel or whatever. With the right mumbo jumbo we can summon him, bring him right to us."

"You sure that's a good idea?" Elena asked him incredulously.

"You're crazy, absolutely not," Sam agreed.

"We'll work him over, after what he did—"

"Pam took a _peek_ at him and he burnt her eyes out of her skull, and you want to face him?"

"You got a better idea?"

"Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do," Sam said. "I followed a bunch of demons to town, right?"

"Okay," Dean followed.

"So, we go find 'em. Someone's gotta know something about something."

"That makes sense," said Elena.

A waitress came over and slid three slices of blueberry pie in front of each of them.

"Thanks," said Dean, but then she sat in the fourth seat between Elena and Sam, folding her hands in her lap and smiling at them. Dean smiled back, though he was a bit confused.

"You anglin' for a tip?"

"I'm sorry," she said. "I thought you were looking for us."

Her eyes flashed black as pitch. A hand gripped Elena's elbow and she subconsciously followed its backward tug.

A man in an electrician's uniform went to the front door and locked it, and stayed between their table and the door.

"Dean," said the smiling demon. "To Hell and back. Aren't _you_ a lucky duck?"

Dean inclined his head.

"That's me."

"So you get to just stroll out of the pit, huh? Tell me, what makes _you_ so special?"

"I liked to think it's because of my perky nipples." He grinned, but the demon only stared impassively.

"I don't know," he admitted flatly. "Wasn't my doing, I don't know who pulled me out."

"_Right_, you don't," she said skeptically.

"_No_, I don't."

"Lying's a sin, you know."

"I'm not lying," Dean said, smiling a little though the tense edge never left his expression. He glanced at her nametag. "So if you wouldn't mind enlightening me, _Flo_."

"Mind your tone with me, _boy,_" she said coolly, tilting her head. "I'll drag you back to Hell _myself._"

Sam, in anger, started to get up at the threat, but Dean held up a hand at him, silently telling him to wait. He let go of Elena's arm and smirked.

"No you won't."

"I won't?" Flo asked, smirking back at him.

"No. 'Cause if you were you would've done it already," he said. "Fact is, you don't know who cut me loose. You're just as spooked as we are. And you're lookin' for answers."

The demon's gaze shifted from Dean to Sam, to Elena, and back to Dean.

"Maybe it was some turbo-charged spirit. Hmm? Or…Godzilla," he wisecracked. "Or some big bad boss demon, but I'm guessing at your pay grade that they don't tell you squat. 'Cause whoever it was, they _want_ me out. And they're a lot stronger than you."

The demon stared. Her silence was more telling than if she'd spoken.

"So go ahead, send me back. But don't come crawlin' to me when they show up on your front doorstep with vaseline and a fire hose," he smirked.

"I'm gunna reach down your throat and rip out your lungs," she threatened. Elena knew it was an empty threat, but it still made a chill run up her spine. Sam was similarly on edge, but Dean didn't even blink. He stood up, walked over to the demon, and slapped her across the face. Her head whipped to the side, but she looked back at him with a tight expression. He slapped her again, and still, she stayed where she was, though her eyes burned with fury.

"That's what I thought," said Dean, then turned to Sam and Elena. "Let's go."

They got up and waited for Dean, who pulled out a ten dollar bill and set it on the table.

"For the pie."

* * *

><p>Once they were outside, Elena could breathe.<p>

"Hoooly _shit_ that was close," said Dean as they crossed the street. She turned to him angrily.

"Then why'd you fucking egg her on like that? You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"You're alive, aren't you?" he pointed out, and she narrowed her eyes at him.

"We're just going to leave 'em in there?" Sam asked. They began walking down the sidewalk toward where they parked the Impala.

"There are at least three of them, probably more. And we've only got one knife between us so yeah," said Dean.

"I've been killing a lot more demons than that recently."

"Not anymore. The _smarter_ brother's back in town."

"Dean, we've _got_ to take them down, they're _dangerous_," Sam insisted.

"They're scared. Scared of whatever had the juice to yank me out," said Dean. "We're dealing with one bad mofo here. One job at a time."

* * *

><p>When they got back to the hotel it was around seven, and though they were all exhausted, the night was young enough for a few hours of research. Hopefully they could find something about what kind of creature was powerful enough to yank a soul out of Hell <em>and <em>completely heal Dean's body. Elena sat on the couch next to Sam, book in hand while he scrolled on his laptop. Dean was in the shower, warbling loudly and out of tune to what sounded suspiciously like a Michael Jackson song.

"What?" Sam asked her. Her eyes flicked to him in surprise.

_Oh. _

She hadn't realized she'd been snickering out loud.

"Dean borrowed my iPod earlier to help him focus. He must've had the shuffle on by mistake," she said with a grin. The man could take apart ten different gun models and reassemble them without a hitch, but he couldn't figure out an MP3 player.

"_Don't blame it on the…sunshine, don't blame it on the moon times…don't blame it on the food rhymes…_"

Sam smiled in amusement as the tune of the song became vaguely familiar, no matter how much the lyrics were being botched.

"Really," he asked wryly. "'Blame it on the Boogie?'"

She shrugged.

"Makes me wanna boogie."

He shook his head and grinned a bit. Soon enough, it faded.

"Lena…"

She glanced over and frowned at seeing the solemn shift in his demeanor.

"What's the matter?"

He didn't answer at first, but he closed his laptop. After a few beats of looking down at it, gathering his thoughts, he looked up at her.

"Last time we saw each other, I said some things…"

Her expression softened, and she restrained a sigh.

"Sam—"

"Things I'm not proud of. I hurt you and I'm sorry," he continued with a sigh, wiping a hand over his tired face. "I just…Dean was gone and I…I didn't think how you were probably hurting too."

She shook her head.

"Can't say I was exactly there for you either, Sam," she said sadly, regret clear to him in her eyes. "I'm the one who left you there. Didn't even call to make sure you were okay."

"I didn't give you much choice, though. Did I?"

"You were angry, I knew that."

"And you were just trying the best you could," said Sam. She smiled a little, shaking her head.

"Looks like neither one of us have been so great, huh?"

His small smile was soft.

"I guess not."

"What're we talkin' about here?"

Elena smiled in amusement.

"Nothing, Dean," said Sam. He and Elena shared a look as he opened his laptop again.

And then Dean squeezed onto the couch by Elena, forcing her into the middle.

"_Ack_, what the hell, Dean? Can't you get your own chair?" she complained as he practically sat on her right side.

"This is more comfortable."

Elena rolled her eyes and shoved at him, and he waggled his eyebrows when she couldn't get him to budge. That's when Sam decided to get up.

"It's all right, I was going to go shower anyway."

That let Elena push free from Dean and claim the other end. He laughed at her, to which she maturely stuck her tongue out at him. Dean crossed his arms and put up his feet across the couch's length so she only had about half of her cushion.

"Hey! Get your nasty feet out of my bubble."

"They're clean," he protested. "I just took a shower."

Then she smirked.

"Well mine aren't." She kicked off her shoes and crossed her ankles over his lap. His face screwed in disgust and he moved his hands away from touching them.

"What are you two, four?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Get your stank-ass feet out of my face!"

"Only if you move over! I can't concentrate if I'm not comfortable."

"Well _excuse me_, princess."

"Yeah, _excuse you_, so move over!"

"What's the magic word?" Dean sassed.

"_Move the fuck over before I strangle you!_" He grinned lasciviously.

"Mm, kinky." She immediately pulled her legs toward her and slapped his thigh.

"_Shut the fuck up!_"

"I'm leaving," Sam said, though he was sure neither of them heard him. He shook his head all the way to the bathroom.

* * *

><p>Dean was snoring lightly on the couch by the time Elena remembered she hadn't showered yet, and that made her feel dirtier. She closed the book in her hands (not that she'd made any more headway in the past hour than she had before) and grabbed a change of clothes.<p>

"I'm gunna shower," she whispered to Sam, not wanting to wake Dean up. It had been a long day for him. For all of them.

Sam nodded, and she closed the door behind her. She was too tired to bother washing her hair, so she settled for throwing it in a bun and taking a five minute shower to wash all the grime of the day, and she put on some grey sweatpants and a blue t-shirt over her underwear. Her used clothes she threw in a plastic bag to be washed later.

A tremor shook the bathroom walls, and she stilled.

_Are there earthquakes in Illinois? _Maybe, but with their luck, she doubted it was something that minor.

She rushed out of the bathroom and saw Dean awake and standing at the ready with his gun, but Sam was nowhere to be found.

"What's happening?" she asked him in alarm. The TV was going haywire while a whirring sound reverberated in the room.

"I don't know, get over here!" he shouted over the sound, and pointed his gun at the front door. But the high pitched whine only grew louder, so loud that he was forced to press both his hands over his ears and eventually drop his gun. Distantly he could hear Elena's strain to block it out in a pain-filled groan, and the two of them were forced to their knees by it.

Then mirrors started to shatter.

Glass rained down and blew out at them from behind. Dean grabbed her and threw them as far left as he could when a large mirror to their right shot glass straight at them. They landed painfully on the floor that was already littered with it, and it bit into their skin, even as blood started trickling down from their ears at the piercing, high frequency sound. He shielded Elena the best he could without squishing her into the biting shards.

"DEAN!" He heard it just over the whirring, "_ELENA!_"

_Bobby_.

He felt himself behind pulled up from under his arms and he was able to stand, but he only stumbled out of the ruined hotel room when he saw Bobby hefting Elena into his arms. Once into the hallway, down the elevator and in the Camaro, he allowed himself to relax. The Impala was gone, Sam along with it most likely. Elena breathed heavy in the backseat while they waited for Bobby to come back with towels to clean off the blood.

"You okay?" he asked gruffly. She sighed.

"I'm okay."

Her arms were cut to hell. Bobby had just finished getting all of the glass out, including a chunk that had gotten itself lodged in her shoulder when she and Dean had been forced to throw themselves away from the blast.

Soon enough though, Bobby was back with damp towels for both of them.

"We'll stop at a CVS and get some other stuff," he said climbing into the driver's seat and ran a search for the store on Elena's GPS that was attached under the radio.

_Turns out they're good for something_, he thought. _Go figure._

He started the car and drove away from the hotel. Things were quiet for a while, the road stretching in front of them illuminated by brightly colored city lights.

"You kids all right?" he asked. He made sure to glance at the GPS directions every now and then to make sure he was headed the right way.

"'Sides the church bells ringing in my ears," Dean said dryly. "Peachy."

He took out his cell phone and dialed his brother.

"_Hey._"

"Where are you?"

"_Couldn't sleep, went to get a burger._"

"In _my_ car?"

"_Force of habit, sorry,_" said Sam. "_What are __**you**__ doing up?_"

"Well, Bobby's back. We're gunna go get a beer," Dean said, looking over at Bobby who gave him an incredulous look.

"_All right. Well, uh…spill some for me._"

"Done, I'll catch ya later," Dean said, and hung up.

"Why the hell didn't you tell him?" Bobby asked.

"Because he'd just try to stop us."

"From _what?_" Elena asked.

"Summoning this thing," Dean said, "It's time we face it head on."

"You _can't_ be _serious_," Bobby exclaimed.

"As a heart attack," he said, then grinned. "And it's high noon."

"We don't know what it is! It could be a demon, it could be anything."

"That's why we gotta be ready for anything," Dean said, and pulled out Ruby's knife.

"We got the big time magic knife, you've got an arsenal in the trunk…"

Bobby gestured with his thumb to Elena in the backseat.

"She's still bleedin' on the seats. I'm stoppin' for a first aid kit."

Dean glanced back at Elena through the side mirror and saw her frowning, still pressing the towel against her cuts. She _was_ still bleeding, and he felt a bit guilty for that. Whatever it was, it had been trying to get to him and caught her in the middle.

"I know. We'll go there first, then deal with this thing."

"…This is a bad idea."

"I couldn't agree more, but what other choice do we have?"

"We can choose life," Bobby remarked.

"Bobby, whatever this thing wants it's after me. That much we know, right?" said Dean. "I need someplace to hide. I can get caught with my pants down again, or we can make our stand."

"Dean, we could use Sam for this," Bobby said, trying to reason with him.

"Nah," said Dean. "He's better off where he is."

* * *

><p>"That's a hell of an art project you've got going there," Dean commented. He added yet another knife to the arsenal on the table while Elena surveyed the empty storage shack in appreciation, spray bottle in hand. She'd helped with a good portion of it, but she'd had to study the books closely to even have a prayer of drawing the ancient symbols correctly. The walls and floor were entirely covered with wards.<p>

"Traps and talismans from every faith on the globe," said Bobby. "How you doin'?"

"Stakes, iron, silver, salt, the knife, I mean," said Dean, pointing to each one, "We're pretty much set to catch and kill anything I've ever heard of."

"This is still a_ bad_ idea."

"Yeah, Bobby. I heard you the first ten times." Bobby gave him a firm look at the sass mouthing, but Dean continued, "What do you say we ring the dinner bell?"

Bobby held his start for a second longer before moving to the other table full of ingredients to perform the spell. The three of them unconsciously held their breath…but nothing happened. Bobby whistled a tune while they sat on the edge of the tables and waited. And waited.

And waited.

"You sure you did the ritual right?" Dean asked, losing his patience. Bobby gave him an exasperated look. Elena smiled in amusement.

"Sorry…" said Dean. "Touchy, touchy, eh?"

And then the shutters on the roof banged open and closed, as if a storm were coming through. They were on their feet and armed at the ready, taking in their surroundings for anything breaking through.

"Wishful thinking, but maybe it's just the wind," said Dean.

"Yeah, wishful thinking," Elena nodded. One by one the lights went out, forcing them to duck away from the sparks, and the wooden doors flew open despite being previously latched.

A man stepped forward. A dark-haired man wearing a trench coat over slacks and a loosened tie, who came steadily but calmly, not fazed in the least by the several bullets that cut into his chest and abdomen. He seemed almost sorry that they'd wasted the ammo, and continued toward them even as Dean grabbed the knife and held it behind his back. He moved along with the stranger, back-stepping and circling around.

"Who are you?"

"I am the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition." The voice was cool, only slightly higher than Dean's and possessing grit.

"Yeah…thanks for that."

The man, who Elena could only assume was Castiel, looked down at the knife Dean embedded in his heart and _smiled_, just a little. He pulled it out and dropped to the floor, then blocked the crowbar Bobby attacked him with and touched his forehead with two fingers. Bobby's eyes rolled into his head as he slumped to the floor.

"_Bobby!_" Elena exclaimed, but Dean grabbed her arm before she could cross the creature to get to her uncle.

"Wait, damn it," he commanded, and she reluctantly stayed close to him. The "man" turned around.

"We need to talk, Dean," he said, and his eyes settled on Elena. "Alone."

Dean shoved her behind him.

"Oh no, no fucking way—"

"Your friend's alive."

"Just unconscious," Elena spat, though knowing Bobby was okay relieved her a great deal.

"He's unharmed," Castiel said mildly. Then in a blink he was gone, leaving the two searching the room with their eyes. Elena turned and gasped. She was face to face with deep blue eyes and a hand reaching for her.

And then there was nothing at all.

* * *

><p>She woke up in the dark. For a moment it was cavern walls surrounding her with the smell of dirt and sweat and blood filling her nose. Her throat clamped shut as the hairs on her arms raised, her breaths coming out quick and shallow.<p>

"Elena."

She blinked and the roof of her Camaro came into view.

"You awake back there?"

Elena swallowed past the lump in her throat and sat up. Her fingers pressed into the familiar material of the car's interior.

"Yeah," she croaked, and met Dean's eyes in the rearview mirror. They stared intently, flicking to the road and back.

"You all right?" Bobby looked at her over his shoulder from the passenger seat.

"What the hell happened?" she asked.

"Long story," said Dean.

"Give me the short version." He seemed hesitant, so Bobby, not one to beat around the bush and also probably knowing the reason why Dean was holding back, said,

"His name's Castiel…and he claims to be an angel."

Her jaw slackened. Mouth parting, Elena blinked, but wasn't able to form the words. At least, not at first.

"I'm sorry, I think I must've hit my head when he fucking _mind-drugged me_. Are you saying…"

"Like, servant of Heaven, angel," Bobby sent Dean a sideways look. "Apparently, he had wings."

"…_Wings_," she deadpanned. Dean's expression was hard and focused solely on the road, but his hands clenched the steering wheel. Bobby wasn't kidding.

…_Wings. Angels. Heaven…_

She supposed the countless Sundays of Mass her mom dragged her to when she was younger was good for something after all.

"I need a drink," she muttered.

"Get in line," Dean said as Bobby snorted.

"…Where are we going then?"

"To go get Sam," said Bobby. "Then head back to my place." Dean didn't look excited about it.

"Because he'll be so happy about this," she said, raising a brow at him through the rearview. His mouth tugged downward, just shy of a grimace. "Did…_Castiel_, say why he did it?"

Dean hesitated, and it made her both curious and concerned.

"Dean?"

"…I'd rather not have to say it twice."

After a moment, she nodded in acceptance. Elena wouldn't push him. Not if he would tell her eventually.

* * *

><p>Surprise, Sam <em>wasn't<em> happy. At least, not at first. Sure he'd been angry that Dean had left him out and all of them could've been killed, but after explaining Castiel's apparent holy mission from Heaven and God's apparent "plan" for Dean, he started getting enthusiastic once Bobby established that an angel was virtually the only explanation for what Castiel was. Nothing else, no demon or creature from the lowest depths of the earth, had the power to pull out a soul from Hell. But if there were angels, there was a decent chance there was a God, too. Sam pointed out that maybe it was the good guys giving them a little help for a change.

Dean was less than enthused.

"Look, I know you're not all choir boy about this stuff, but this is becoming less and less about faith and more and more about proof."

"Proof?" Dean said incredulously.

"_Yes._"

"Proof that there's a God out there that actually gives a crap about me _personally?_" Dean asked. He shook his head in refusal. "I'm sorry, but I'm not buying it!"

"Why not?" Sam asked.

"Because why me?" Dean said, looking at each of them. "If there _is_ a God out there, why would he give a _crap _about me? I mean I've saved some people, okay? I figured that made up for the—the stealing and the chicks, but why do I deserve to get saved? I'm just a regular guy."

Elena shook her head with a melancholic frown. Everyone in this room but him knew that wasn't true.

"Well, apparently you're a regular guy who's important to the Guy Upstairs," Sam remarked. Dean looked put off by that.

"Well that creeps me out," he said. "I mean, I don't like getting singled out at birthday parties, let alone by…_God._"

"Okay, well too bad, Dean. Because I think he wants you to strap on your party hat."

Dean crossed his arms, cleared his throat a little, then looked over at Bobby.

"All right then...fine. What do we know about angels?"

Bobby gave a flat look as he hefted five large, dusty tomes onto the desk he was sitting at.

"Start reading."

Elena sighed. Dean slipped the thinnest one from the top. He then pointed at Sam.

"You're gunna get me some pie."

Sam rolled his eyes and met Elena's, the two of them sharing amused looks.

"What do you think of all this?" he asked her. She was hesitant to reply at first, but eventually she crossed her arms and said,

"I think you're right," she admitted. "But I understand why he's not completely on board with the idea."

"Fair enough," he nodded, then grabbed the keys to the Impala. "Wanna come?"

"Nah, I'll stick around," she said with a small grin. "Make sure he's working."

"I don't see _you_ reading anything!" Dean's voice called from the living room. She rolled her eyes again and picked up an ancient book from the pile.

"Keep your panties on," she teased and sat next to him on the couch. He sent her a look, but didn't say anything.

Sam shook his head.

"I'll be back," he said to Bobby, and shut the door behind him.

* * *

><p>"Don't forget the chips," said Dean.<p>

"_Yes, Dean. I'll get the chips._"

"Would you leave him alone already?" Elena snapped. "You've called him three times."

"And don't forget my pie," he added.

"_Dean, when have I ever forgotten the pie?_"

"Uh…"

"_Exactly._"

"Get apple if they have it…or wait, I'm feeling like cherry."

"_Fine…uh, I gotta go._"

"All right, see ya."

"_Yeah, bye._"

"Now don't call him again!" Dean looked over at Elena's peeved expression.

"What are you so pissy about?" he asked. "I told him to get your damn Cheez-Its."

She huffed, but couldn't exactly contradict him. Cheez-Its were her favorite snack food, and he'd told Sam to get them without even having to ask if she'd want some.

"Keep in mind, I'll be wanting some."

"Uh, no. If you get a hold of 'em there'll be nothing left by the time I get there."

"Aw, that's not true," he refuted.

"No?" she asked. "Then why are the Snickers and Milkyways I keep in my bag always gone, or bitten into?"

Dean tried and failed for innocent.

"And you _leave _the fucking wrapper so my clothes get chocolatey," she complained. He sighed, not bothering to deny it.

"How would you like it if I ate your pie?" Elena asked, and he froze. His eyes slid to her face comically, but his expression was so serious, it made her restrain her laugh.

"You laugh now…" Dean trailed.

Elena smirked coolly and went back to her reading. Informative stuff, as she was getting back to the New King James Version of the Bible and reading verses her phone had spat out at her.

"This almost feels like…" But she stopped herself. She hadn't meant to say that out loud. Then Dean looked over at her.

"Like what?"

"…Like when it was me and my dad," she said, lowering her eyes to the coffee table. "I'd sit and turn page after page and research for the case, or for my classes."

"Right, 'cause you were taking 'em online," he said.

"Yeah…it was hard as hell. Especially with us being on the road all the time."

"Why'd you do it then?" he asked. "From what you told me back then, you didn't really want to deal with college."

She smiled ruefully.

"It was the only way he'd let me come with him."

"…Hmm," Dean nodded after a moment. "For the record, not that I ever really cared about going to college…but I kinda wish my dad had cared more about that stuff."

She looked over at him, trying to hide her surprise.

"Yeah?"

He got a little smile on his face.

"Yeah. Maybe I could've…I dunno…" He scratched the back of his head. "But I wish Dad would've lightened up…for Sam's sake, ya know?"

She understood. Sam wanting to go to school shouldn't have been as taboo as John Winchester had made it seem. For him to want more than hunting for the rest of his life made sense. Sam was smart, and talented in ways Elena knew she'd never be. He would've made a good lawyer if he'd ever gotten the chance.

"Yeah…I never really thought about what I wanted to be," she confessed. "My mom was a dancer. I used to watch old tapes of her company while she was in college. I've got two left feet, but I used to pretend…"

Elena stopped herself with a laugh.

"I sound like such a girl."

Dean quirked a grin.

"No, no, go on. This should be good," he said. "With the tutu and everything, right?"

She shot him a side glance, but her smile remained in place.

"Yeah, no. I guess…I just," she trailed, "she was beautiful. Grace and poise and all that. I just wished I'd gotten some of that."

"Aw, what do you mean?" he said, a playful gleam in his eyes. "You look just like your mom."

She gave him a confused look.

"How do you know what she looks like?"

"I saw the pictures in your house." She had dark hair, just like Elena. And they had the same eyes, expressive and light grey. Like clouds, in his mind. The memory of the picture was faded, but he might've remembered seeing Elena's smile on an older, more mature-looking woman.

"She was hot," he said honestly. It made Elena roll her eyes and smile a little.

"She probably would've liked you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, she was fun, always hopping from one thing to the next," Elena's smile grew fonder. "My dad could hardly keep up sometimes, but he could never say no to anything she did either."

"Hm, sounds about right," he said with a grin. "You'd have to get it from somewhere."

She rolled her eyes, but her smile stayed.

"So are you telling me you like to dance?" Dean asked, raising his brows. Elena shook her head wryly.

"Nah. But I always wished I could," she admitted.

Before he could answer her, Bobby walked into the room.

"Hey." He looked like he'd just gotten off the phone. "I have a friend, Olivia Lowry. I've been trying to reach her for three days for some help on this angel front. She hasn't called back and it's unlike her."

"Okay, are we going to go check on her?" Elena asked. She'd worked with Liv last month while helping out Bobby; great hunter, and she really knew how to throw back bourbon.

"Yeah, go grab your stuff if you're coming," he said. "We'll wait for Sam."

* * *

><p>Not only did Sam forget the pie, but they found Olivia Lowry in the middle of her living room, lying dead in a pool of her own blood. There was a gaping hole where her stomach should've been, and her entire right arm was missing, torn off raggedly. Bobby had to leave the room angrily, while Elena had to avert her eyes. Maybe this was what her dad meant when he said she didn't have the stomach for the job, because she was almost ready to throw up.<p>

"What did this?" she murmured. Sam examined Olivia's closet—a hidden arsenal with the door left wide open, and found an EMF meter strewn about haphazardly.

"Vengeful spirit activity," he concluded solemnly.

"Yeah, on steroids…" Dean trailed. "I've never seen a ghost do this to a person."

Bobby came back in, closing the door behind him. He still looked pale, but more composed than before.

"Bobby, you all right?" Dean asked.

"I just called some hunters nearby."

"Good…we could use some help."

"Except they're not answering their phones either."

"…There's something going down, isn't there?" Sam asked. Bobby looked up from Olivia's body at him. His grief was expertly hidden, only revealed in his surly tone.

"You think?"


	12. Edge of the Blade II

**AN: Well, I can see from the traffic graphs that there are people still reading, so I'm still updating! As long as you guys still enjoy what I'm writing, I'll keep putting up chapters. The name Ann Wilson refers to the lead singer from Heart, a favorite rock band of mine.**

_**Do You Recall**_

_XII: Edge of the Blade, Part II_

They split up: Bobby in his car, Elena in her Camaro, Sam and Dean in the Impala, and started calling nearby hunters. Every house and apartment and motel room they checked had bloody floors and walls and their voicemails full. They agreed to meet back at Bobby's, for which Elena was grateful. She'd seen enough dead bodies in the last three days. If she saw one more, she'd be sick.

Halfway through Minnesota, she got a call from Dean.

"Hey."

"_Hey. Everything all right on your end?_"

"Yeah, why? Did something happen?"

"_Sam got attacked, by this guy…long story short, an FBI agent who was on our trail for a while and locked us up in jail, but ended up helping us gank a bunch of demons. Lilith torched the place right after Sam and I left…he didn't make it_."

"Damn…I'm sorry," she said. "Is Sam okay?"

"_Yeah, he's fine…look Bobby isn't answering his phone. Have you talked to him?_"

Worry set at the bottom of her stomach.

"Not since yesterday when he called."

"_Okay, well we're on our way. Almost out of Nebraska._"

"You might get there before me. I only passed Rochester half an hour ago."

"_All right…be careful._"

"You too."

But by the time she made it to her uncle's house (and she borderline raced to get there in under three hours), she found all three of them. Alive, but shit had clearly gone down; they were all beat to hell and the house was a mess.

"Lena," Sam greeted, somewhat sheepishly under her worried glare.

"What the hell happened?"

Apparently, it was ghosts. Specifically, ghosts of the people they couldn't save, and each of them with a branding on their hands. Sam drew it out, and Bobby recognized it enough to begin looking through his book shelves. Then the lights started flickering.

"We've got to move," he said.

"Move where?" Sam asked. Bobby measured him with a look.

"Somewhere safe, ya idjit."

* * *

><p>Bobby had built a panic room. He had a panic room, and Elena had never noticed it while living here. Did that make her an idiot? It <em>was<em> in the basement of his house; one hundred percent iron and coated with salt. There was a cot for a bed that was already made, a desk and chair with paper and other writing utensils, and another shelf of books. Not to mention a full and extensive arsenal that Dean fully appreciated.

He and Sam spent their time making salt rounds while Bobby and Elena looked for the symbol, which the older hunter finally found. It was the "Mark of the Witness," specifically of the unnatural. The nature of their deaths forced them to rise, and in agony. It blinded them, making them vengeful spirits against their will. The spell used to raise them was so powerful that it left a mark on their souls.

"'The Rising of the Witnesses,' it figures into an ancient prophecy," he finished.

"Wait, wait, what book is that prophecy from?" Dean asked.

"Well, the widely distributed version's just for tourists," said Bobby. "But long story short, Revelation."

The brothers looked at him oddly. Elena had read it over his shoulder already, and shook her head.

"This is a sign, boys," he said. "…Of the Apocalypse."

The silence in the room was deafening, until Dean spoke up, wanted clarification that this was the Biblical _Apocalypse_ they were talking about.

"Yeah. See the Rising of the Witnesses, it's a mile marker."

"Okay, so what do we do now?" Sam asked. Dean scoffed.

"Road trip," he said, walking away to the table full of shotguns and salt rounds. "Grand Canyon, Star Trek experience…Bunny Ranch."

"First things first," Bobby said dryly, "Let's survive our friends out there."

"Right," said Dean. "Any ideas besides staying in this room until Judgment Day?"

Bobby tapped on one of the pages in front of him with his pencil.

"It's a spell, to send the Witnesses back to rest." He shrugged. "Should work."

"_Should_ work?" Elena asked. Sam laughed shortly.

"Great."

"Good thing is, I think I've got everything we need at the house," said Bobby. He leant back in his chair.

"Any chance you got everything we need in this room?" Dean asked with a hopeful grin. Bobby glanced over at him sardonically.

"You thought our good luck was gunna start _now _all of a sudden?" Dean rolled his eyes. "Spell's gotta be made over an open fire."

"The fireplace in the library," Sam realized.

"You got it."

"It's just not as appealing as a, uh…ghost-proof panic room," Dean commented. "You know?"

"Most things in our lives aren't," Elena replied. Dean paused.

"Touché."

* * *

><p>With a warning to watch each other and not run out of ammo until Bobby was done with the spell, they cautiously left the panic room. Then it was a race to get to the library and make a salt circle around the fireplace while Bobby got the ingredients. He sent Sam upstairs to get a hex box, then Dean to the kitchen to get something out of a false drawer under the cabinets.<p>

Twin girls appeared behind the salt line, grinning darkly and calling out to Bobby.

"You walked right by us," one said, "while that monster ate us all up."

"Why didn't you do anything?" said the other. Elena glanced over at Bobby and saw him staring at them, wide eyed with a pained expression. She shot at both of them and they were gone. It freed her uncle from the distraction and allowed him to continue with the preparations.

Then the kitchen door closed, separating them from Dean.

"Dean?" Bobby called.

"_I'm fine, Bobby. Keep workin'!_"

He scrambled even faster for ingredients, until his hands came up empty for an herb. It was hard to come by and needed to be kept in dark, cold places. But he knew he had some.

"Lena." She turned to him, concern clear in her eyes.

"What do you need?" she asked.

"Get me a dark green bag—under your bed. It should be next to an old shoebox."

"Got it," she said, and headed up the stairs.

Elena had never looked under the bed. It was weird to think about, but she hadn't, even when she'd come here to stay when she was a kid. She had to practically lay on the floor to reach under it. There were things so jammed between one another that she ended up pulling out everything she could, until finally reaching the shoebox. The lid tumbled off in her haste, revealing several pictures, old and frayed.

She recognized one of them; it was of Aunt Karen, probably in her early twenties and sitting on a playground swing. She was smiling widely with a shoe missing from her left foot.

A rasping, whisper of a voice called her name, breaking the silence.

She froze. The picture fluttered down between her fingers.

"Don't tell me you don't remember me, 'cause then you'd be lying," said the bright voice. She didn't want to turn around. Her heart hammered in her chest, her breath coming out in ragged pants.

"Elena." This one was different, gruff, yet just as familiar. If not more. Finally, she looked behind her.

"Dad?" she choked out.

* * *

><p>Dean tried talking around Victor Henrickson when he came for him. All his words were the truth, but were also an effective way of stalling. Until he got a spectral arm through his ribcage and his gun thrown yards away. He couldn't block through the pain, and he couldn't shake Henrickson off. But he didn't have to.<p>

Sam shot the ghost with a solid round of salt, making it disappear.

"You all right?" he asked. Dean gave his brother a pained look.

"_No,_" he said, but accepted his helping and hand. The two brought the stuff for the spell into the library, but Dean looked around the room, confused.

"Bobby, where's Elena?" Bobby looked up from his work, thinly veiled alarm in his eyes.

"Upstairs in her room, I needed her to get me somethin'."

Dean swore loudly.

"_Sam,_" he barked, and the two ran up to the second floor. Just when they reached the top, a gun shot rang out clear and loud.

"_You've always been a disappointment._" Dean recognized the voice. It was coming from her bedroom. "_Never listened to me…never did what you were goddamn told._"

It was followed closely by an agonized scream, long and echoing off the walls.

"_Elena!_" Dean shouted. His heart leapt into his throat and he and Sam sprinted to her room. He ripped the door open and saw the ghost of Jack Hayes gripping his daughter's wrist. Her elbow was in an unnatural angle, with his other hand at her throat. Dean didn't wait for her face to get any redder to shoot a round of salt into Jack's head. Elena slumped to the ground in a coughing fit, gasping for air, and Sam easily lifted her in his arms.

"Gotta get back to the salt line," he said, but she stopped him with a hand. Between coughs, she pointed to the bag lying on the floor. Dean grabbed it and followed his brother downstairs.

"What happened?" Bobby demanded.

"What do you _think_ happened?" said Sam. He deposited her in the desk chair. "Can you feel your arm?"

Elena shook her head. Her eyes were clouded with pain.

"It's numb."

She could barely feel her fingers either.

"Don't move it. Your elbow looks dislocated," Dean said.

"Trust me," she said, "I'm not—"

The windows flew open, blowing the salt line away and making the flames in the fireplace flicker.

"_Shit_," Dean swore, and propped his gun up at the ready. Ghost after ghost came, and Bobby continued speaking out the spell as Sam and Dean, and Elena with one arm, pumped the spirits with salt. Meg Masters, the college student possessed by a demon and robbed of her life. The Twins. Henrickson. Ron, from the bank back in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Jack. And then a boy that was unfamiliar to the brothers.

"Who are _you?_" Dean asked. The little boy cocked his head to the side, his brown eyes wide and mockingly hurt.

"She didn't tell you about me?" he asked. "She didn't tell you how she killed me?"

Elena froze, could only watch helplessly as the spirit of her little brother watched her with contempt in his eyes that had never once been there when he was alive.

Sam was the one who finally shot him, making Elena flinch violently. But she decided to stand. She would shoot better standing up.

When Henrickson threw Dean's gun away from him, he was forced to use an iron rod. Sam, busy with desperately trying to reload his gun, was taken unawares by Meg who moved a small shelf and trapped Sam against the wall.

"_Sam,_" Dean called.

"Cover Bobby!"

Elena was still shooting rounds even though pain was shooting up and down her right arm. She wasn't left-handed, so her shots were occasionally a bit off. She missed Jack by a hair, and he appeared inches from her. He punched her across the cheek and grabbed her bad arm, making her cry out and drop her gun. But after a shot from Dean, the ghost dissipated.

Then Bobby's scream of pain alerted them to Meg, who stood behind him with her hand through his back. The filled bowl in his hands began to slip out.

"_Dean!_" he called, and Dean dove, just managing to catch it.

"Fireplace!" Bobby ordered, and the bowl and all its contents went into the flame. The room was then engulfed in a flash of light so bright it was painful, and then it was gone, including all the ghosts. Bobby gasped and fell to the floor.

"_Bobby,_" Dean grated out, and he and Sam, who by then had managed to push the shelf away from him, helped Bobby stand. They surveyed the utterly trashed room.

"Well, _shit._"

* * *

><p>They took Elena to the emergency room after the three men unanimously decided (despite her protests) that it would be better than trying to reset and treat a dislocated, possibly broken elbow from Bobby's house. If they didn't do it right they could end up <em>really<em> breaking her arm, with longer lasting damage. She whined and complained all the way there and through the hospital corridors after her vitals were taken and her case was deemed not life-threatening.

"Quit whinin' and just maybe I won't leave your ass here," Bobby threatened. She quieted after that.

They were forced to sit in the waiting room for twenty minutes. Elena grew fidgety, though she winced with every shift. Dean looked over and felt bad for her. Her elbow was bruised purple and swollen, like a balloon.

"Is that guy over there here for a _bloody nose?_" he whispered in her ear. She looked over to where a twenty-something year old guy had napkins shoved up his nose. Other than that, he looked fine.

"Seriously?" she groaned, then leaned toward his ear, lowering her voice. "Someone's been hitting the pay-per-view a little too hard."

Dean coughed on a laugh, earning strange looks from the people sitting in front of them. Usually he would've been the one to make that joke.

"I think I've rubbed off on you," he said, not quite able to fight off an amused smile.

"Like that wasn't your goal all along."

"True."

"Wilson, Ann," a nurse called. "Ann?"

"Finally," Elena sighed, and stood. "Coming!"

The three of them followed her and the nurse to another room, where the nurse encouraged Elena to sit on the bed while they waited for the doctor. It took another five minutes, but soon enough, Dr. Steve Marshall came out—a thirty-something with a head of blonde hair and dark eyes that were as friendly as his smile. He introduced himself to everyone and greeted Elena (or more accurately, "Ann"), her father, and her two brothers.

"Now, as I see it you think you've dislocated your elbow?" he asked kindly.

"Tripped and fell down the stairs," she supplied.

"She doesn't have the best balance," Dean added. She gave him a cursory side glance.

"My _brother_ tends to leave his shoes on the steps," she told the doctor. "Kind of like a five year old."

Sam looked down to hide his smile as Dean raised a brow at her, while Bobby only sighed tiredly. The doctor smiled good-naturedly.

"Well, let me just take a look and see how bad it is, Ann. Is it Ann, or Annie?" Elena smiled, feeling a small blush on her cheeks.

"I like Annie too," she admitted. He smiled back.

"Okay, Annie. Well, let's see here."

He probed lightly at the skin around the joint. She hissed in pain once, then twice, and then Dean wished this guy would finish with his fucking tests and blatant flirting and get her some painkillers and a sling already.

He asked her routine questions about her overall health history, previous surgeries, etc., along with the major symptoms she was experiencing besides bruising, inflammatory pain, and numbness.

"I'll have to run an x-ray to make sure, but your elbow may be broken. If that's the case, then you're going to need surgery."

Elena blanched.

"Surgery?" she asked weakly. Dr. Marshall gave her a sympathetic look.

"'Fraid so. It's the easiest way to fix the bone."

"How long will that take to heal up?" Bobby asked.

"Recovery can take up to several months, unfortunately. But if it's only a dislocation, recovery time is pretty quick in comparison."

"How quick are we talking?" said Sam.

"Three to five weeks, depending on the severity. When it's healed enough you can start physiotherapy treatments to strengthen it back up again," said the doctor. He turned to address Elena, "But let's take you to get x-rayed now, and we'll know for sure."

She nodded and stood, but looked back to Bobby and the Winchesters.

"You'll wait for me…right?" she asked, though her eyes were more on Bobby than anyone else. His softened a bit.

"Course," he promised. She smiled a little, then followed the doctor out. When the door closed, Dean grinned over at his surrogate father.

"Gettin' soft in your old age, huh, Bobby?"

"Oh, shut up."

* * *

><p>Fortunately, it was only a dislocation. They gave her a sling with a prescription of painkillers. In a few hours, they were on their way back to Bobby's house. The old hunter made sure they all had their own blankets and pillows so he didn't have to go looking for it later, because he was taking a nap, even though it was only six in the afternoon. What used to be the boys' room now only had one twin bed, since the other one had gotten too old and too hard to sleep on. So now there was Elena's room, one other empty bed, and the couch.<p>

With Bobby trudging to his bedroom and closing the door behind him, that left the three of them. The sun was still up, but Dean didn't think he could take another step more than what it would take to shower and lay down.

"I'll take the—"

"It's all right. I'll take the couch," Sam cut him off and set his backpack on the nearest cushion.

"Sam—"

"Dean, you're about to fall over," he said bluntly. "You guys go ahead and shower, I'll get some food."

"Got it. But I'm lying here for a while," Elena said, and pretty much dropped onto the couch.

"You feel like something specific?" she heard Sam ask. Usually he'd just go out and get the closest thing.

_Dean's only been back a month, and already he's been beat to hell_, she mused, her lips turning down with a frown.

His face was bruised, lip split, and from what she'd heard, Henrickson would've gotten him if Sam hadn't been there in time. That must have been enough to get to Sam.

"Uh, I dunno man," Dean said, and stretched his back a little. "Did you see anything on the way?" He could have pushed his brother about the couch thing, because Sam looked pretty exhausted too, and he'd rather see to Sam than the other way around. But it looked like he was in one of his moods, when pushing against him was like pushing against a brick wall. Frankly, Dean didn't have the energy.

"I know there's a Chinese restaurant, a Papa John's…I think I saw a burger place around the corner with a 'takeout sign' on the window."

_Damn_, Dean thought. The sound of a burger was already making his mouth water.

"You're reading my mind, Sammy. Cheeseburger with bacon?" he asked hopefully.

"And extra onion rings, got it," Sam said with a grin. "Lena?"

"Cheeseburger."

"Fries?"

By the sound she made, she didn't care much.

"Right. I'll be back," Sam said, and grabbed the keys on his way out. Dean glanced over at Elena's prone form.

"You gunna shower?" he asked.

"You go ahead," she murmured.

"Sure?"

"Mhm."

He knew something was off, but he wouldn't press her for now. Instead, he gathered his clothes and washed off all the blood and dirt and grime, cleaned the small cuts on his arms and prodded gently at the bruise on his cheek while examining himself in the mirror. Then he got a good look at the rest of his face and almost sighed. With a tired exhale, he stared hard.

His body was clean and, besides the new cuts and the handprint on his shoulder, void of all his old scars. But the eyes that stared back at him were decades older. Tired. Holding in everything he wouldn't say. Couldn't say. And that was how it had to be.

Dean blinked and the weight was gone, pushed behind the surface for now.

He stepped out of the bathroom with a wad of clothes he threw in his bag. Only ten minutes had passed according to his phone, but it felt like an hour. He looked over and saw that Elena hadn't moved, not even an inch from where she was curled on herself facing the back of the couch.

"Elena?"

When she remained quiet, he tentatively sat beside her.

"Hey," he said. From here he could just make out the profile of her face. She was awake, her gaze not really focused on anything. She didn't answer though.

"Somethin' wrong?" He almost winced, realizing how dumb that sounded after…well, today. "I mean…"

"Dean," she stopped him. Her voice was tired. "I just want to sleep."

"You can't sleep _yet_…Sammy's bringing back food," he said. "And Sam wants the couch."

This time when she didn't answer him, he did sigh.

"Come on, Shortstop," he prodded, "Talk to me."

That earned him a narrowed look from over her shoulder, and he grinned a little. Her eyes returned to the dull beige walls, but he caught sight of the emotions beginning to break through.

"I saw your dad," he confessed. "Before, I mean…when we came to get you." Elena stiffened…then gradually relaxed. Her exhaling breath was a slow sigh. She blinked a few times, jaw clenching and unclenching.

"Did you…hear?"

"Some of it."

Elena bit her lip, and the cracks fell through. Tears rolled down her face.

"He blamed me," she choked out, "for Jamie. And…Jamie blamed me…"

"That wasn't him," he said, but her body began to shake anyway, curling more upon herself. From his vantage point, it couldn't be comfortable. Her trembling didn't stop when his hand rested on her shoulder.

"Hey," he said softly. And with that gentle lilt of his gruff voice, the dam broke. The hand on her shoulder squeezed a bit. "It wasn't either of them."

He was surprised when her hand, small and warm, came to rest over his and squeezed back. But he waited until she stopped shaking, smoothed his thumb along her shoulder as her tears ebbed. Eventually she let go of his hand and rolled onto her back, looking up at him with pale, glassy eyes. With the same hand he dried her flushed cheeks and got her to smile a little. That small embarrassed smile he liked to get out of her sometimes.

Then she laughed, closing her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again he was still there with that little grin he always got when she unraveled in front of him like this. That _stupid_, _stupid _grin that came out after Elena finally had to smile at his stupid face.

"How do you always know what to say?" she asked, and took in a shuddering breath. "_Every_ fucking time?"

His grin broadened slightly.

"'Cause I'm awesome."

A smile played at her lips, but she rolled her eyes and sat up. Folding her legs under her, Elena paused for a split second before hugging him around his middle with one arm. Dean was warm and smelled like soap and spice deodorant, and she closed her eyes when he pressed a kiss to her hair. That was new, but she couldn't say she minded.

She'd forgotten the way he'd make her cough out what was wrong, but would actually listen to her and quip a joke afterward that would make everything more or less okay. He wouldn't try to fix everything, just be there. For her, that had always been enough. Always.

And then Dean was gone.

Bobby, bless him, would try. When he saw that she wasn't handling it well—her father dead, her new-old life in Hill City gone, Dean, then Sam, in a matter of months—on a bad day, Bobby would ask. He would pry as much as he could, and sometimes (and these were few and far between) she would tell him exactly what was on her mind. But more often than not, she didn't have the heart to say things that would only bring her uncle more pain or guilt by mentioning them. One step closer to the whiskey in the cabinet.

Elena felt a few tears leak from the corners of her eyes, drying on Dean's shirt.

_I missed you._

All too soon he pulled away, and she grabbed her things to take a quick shower before Sam got back. But the odd combination of spice and soap stayed with her until she shut the bathroom door behind her.

* * *

><p>Elena had slept soundly the night before with all the pills she'd taken, but apparently Castiel (or "Cas," as Dean had taken to calling the guy) appeared to Dean, this time without all the pomp and circumstance. He confirmed Bobby's notes on the Witnesses. It was part of sixty-six seals being broken by Lilith, of all people. Well, demon, but whatever.<p>

The seals functioned as locks on a door, specifically a cage door. Lucifer's cage. The fucking Devil and archangel. And that's why the angels are more frequently coming down to earth after, according to Castiel, over two thousand years.

Lucifer.

The Apocalypse.

It all made sense now, at least to Elena. And though she didn't want to see them go, it also made sense to her why Sam and Dean had to leave without her. She couldn't very well hunt with a dislocated elbow, and she'd done what she'd set out to do. More even; she tried to help the Winchesters break Dean's deal. When that didn't work, she and Sam tried to find a way to save him that didn't involve hoodoo of any kind, but that went south too. Finally, when Dean was alive and more or less well, she'd helped them track down who brought him back. Elena supposed that was…the most she could do.

But now there was a matter of the impending Apocalypse, unless they found a way to stop it. Stopping it would involve killing Lilith, which they had no leads on and no real way to find her.

So for now, Elena was helping Bobby anyway. For the two months until October it would be answering phones and doing things with her left hand.

Sam called once or twice, just to see how she was feeling and update her on what they were doing. It was sweet of him, so she told him the truth: she was bored to tears. She couldn't even drink a beer with the painkillers and antibiotics she was on. Plus, she always felt loopy and unfocused whenever she took them. He'd laughed and said that was normal, though he wished there was a little more boring on their end.

Elena got a package toward the beginning of October from "Joe Elliot." Either it was the lead vocalist of Def Leppard sending her a green Oktoberfest hat, or it was Dean Winchester. Attached to the long black feather on the side was a note written in his familiar scrawl:

_Don't down that beer until you're off your meds._

She'd sent him a picture of Bobby's fridge; half the second shelf was filled with about two six-packs of beer. She texted him.

**E: Its like I'm an alcoholic or something. I dont even drink tht much. **

His reply took all of five minutes.

**D: We'll fix tht when ur cleared.**

With Bobby on hunts more often than not, it got kind of lonely. But she had Val to talk to (the woman was always ready to talk her ear off), and she was certain that once Elena got her cast off that the two of them were going to _Jesse's_, but not until she wouldn't get a headache from the loud music and flashing lights. Keeping discussions about Sam and Dean at a minimum was hard, but Val eventually got the hint not to press so much on why they travelled all the time (the story about the business her dad used to be a part of that Elena decided to rejoin sounded flimsy to Val), and if they were single. Or worse yet, Val trying to set up Elena with one of them.

"You don't even know them," Elena said over the phone, rubbing the bridge of her nose, "How are you so sure of how many kids Sam would want to have, if he even wants any?"

"_He seems like the family man type, which I know is more your speed. He'd want two kids, at least. And you two have a lot in common, with the whole bookworm thing going on_," said Val. "_But then again, Dean is all mysterious, rough and leather jacket wearing badass._"

Elena had to laugh. Val was the only one she could talk to like this. For a few minutes she could pretend she was a normal twenty-eight year old talking about guys and making normal plans to catch up with her best friend.

"Just stop, you've only met him _once_," she said. "And Sam is…he's like my brother. You don't even know what he looks like, what he—"

"_Well, what does he look like then?_"

"Um…he's tall, like six- three, probably four—"

"_Stop there. Too tall for you._"

"I'm not _that short._"

"_Honey, you need a step ladder to reach Bobby's wall cabinets,_" said Val. "_You're a short-ass._"

"Fuck you," Elena laughed.

"_Just saying. Anyway, it seems like Cupcake's caught your eye_."

Elena could only assume she meant Dean.

"Are you kidding?" she choked, smiling involuntarily. "We're just friends. Been friends for a long time now."

"_Then how I can tell your face is getting all smiley? Especially when you told me about that hat._"

Elena rolled her eyes, glad Val couldn't see her blush.

"I'm smiling because you're an idiot."

"I can smell your denial. It reeks, even from this side of the state."

"Come _on_, Val."

"_No, __**you**__ come on! I can sense it._"

"What, like a Spidey-Sense?"

"_No, you fuckwit. Women's intuition._"

"Since when do _you_ have women's intuition?"

"_Since always. It's like, my sixth sense. That's why if you know what's good for you, next time you go out you'll wear that top I bought you last time we went out._"

"What, that lacey half of a hoe's uniform?" Elena exclaimed with a laugh.

"_Just trust me._"

"Yeah, because I've got every reason to do that_._"

"_You're getting laid one way or another. When was the last time you—_"

"We're not going there," Elena shook her head. She heard a blowing sound from the other end, like there was a breeze. But she knew Val. "You're smoking, aren't you. I should've known. You always try to give me dating advice when you're high as shit."

"…_That's beside the point._"

"I don't think so," Elena muttered. Val coughed a bit.

"_Whatever…so when are you going to visit me? Or when can I come up?_"

"I'm kind of swamped here right now, but you can come up whenever your schedule clears up," Elena promised. "I know you've got work pretty busy around now with Halloween this month."

They usually decorated the museum she used to work at pretty heavily, even took out the more priceless breakable objects and made the place sort of a haunted house with actual information from the time period Halloween was created. Not stuff heavy or dark enough to creep kids out, but enough that they might actually learn something historical.

"I'll let you know," she said.

The following week, Dr. Marshall cleared her for everything, even took off the splint, and she never thought it would feel so good to bend her arm. It was just her luck that by the time she got back to Bobby's, the Winchesters needed help on a case.

"Dean's got ghost sickness," he told her.

"What?" she asked. "That's a real thing? Thought it was made up."

"Nope. It's real, hallucinations aside," said Bobby. "Thing is, they can't salt and burn the ghost. He was road-hauled by a factory. The remains are all over the place."

"So what do we do?" she asked worriedly. If that was true, Dean didn't have a lot of time before his heart would give out from the "fear" the sickness induced. She'd read about it in books she read for one of her mythology classes in college, but hadn't heard of anyone in the hunting world who'd ever come across it.

"That's what we're gunna figure out when we get there."

"Get there?" she asked. "Where are we going?"

"Colorado."

* * *

><p>They ended up saving Dean in record time by road-hauling the ghost with iron, replaying his own death, near moments before Dean could have a heart attack. It wasn't until they were all teasing him about his time as a scared little girl that the brothers noticed her cast was off.<p>

"You're free," Sam commented with a smile.

"Free to do whatever the hell I want," Elena grinned.

"Don't go burnin' buildings," Bobby warned.

"Well, I did promise a party night, didn't I?" said Dean. He winked at her, then turned to Bobby. "Care to join us?"

Bobby snorted.

"The hell I wanna be with you three on a goddamn spree," he said with his usual snark. "Leave me out of whatever fool plans you've got. Just make sure I don't hear about it the next morning. I'm not doin' any bail outs."

"Will do, Bobby," Sam promised with a crooked grin. With all the crap they'd had to deal with lately, unwinding a bit sounded good.

And that's how Elena found herself once again in the Impala on the way to the motel they'd settled in. the boys let her shower first, knowing she would probably take the longest to get ready. They hadn't known how right they were until it was an hour later and the two of them were bored to tears.

"Elena," Dean started, getting up to knock on the door. "Get your ass out here or we're leaving without you—"

The door slid open, and he was met by exasperated grey eyes and long, dark lashes. His gaze roamed her face, lured in by the pout of dark red lips, down to the lacy black top she was wearing.

"Relax, I'm done," she said with a small grin, and brushed past him. He caught a whiff of something—perfume, he realized, and couldn't help but admire the curve of her hips in that black skirt. He was shocked, however, by the back of the blouse.

"You look great," Sam complimented, took her hand and twirled her around for effect. It made her laugh, even as embarrassment made her face grow warm.

"What happened to your shirt?" Dean remarked. "Lose a fight with a pair of scissors?"

It was cut low, nearly down to the small of her back and revealing smooth skin. It was catnip to many a skeevy bastard, Dean knew. But she only laughed.

"Come on, Dean. I'm not gunna go in a Zeppelin t-shirt and old jeans, am I?"

"That's not what I'm saying," he protested. "It's cold outside. Like in the thirties."

"That's why I have a jacket," she pointed out. At his dissatisfied look, she said, "If you want to wait another twenty minutes for me to change, be my guest," she said, placing a hand on her hip. After a tense pause, Dean sighed and grabbed his keys.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

><p>As usual, Dean did the driving. He didn't tell them where he was going though, which irked Elena. Until they saw the signs for Denver, Colorado, and she started getting excited. It was beautiful at night, all the stores and restaurants and lights and people walking around. After parking the Impala on one of the roadside parking spaces, they became part of the crowd. Every now and then, Elena would stop and look at something, be it pastries in the window of a bakery, or handmade knickknacks and painted candleholders she would probably never need.<p>

Eventually, Sam caved and they went into one of the bakeries, splurging on sandwiches with fancy names and cookies dipped in chocolate that Elena and Dean fought over. She ended up stealing the last one out of his hand, but felt bad enough at the pathetic look on his face that she bought him a chocolate covered Twinkie to make up for it. He gave her half anyway.

Eventually they made their way past a club that, from the outside, looked bigger than the kind of places they were used to going for drinks. More expensive.

"Let's at least check it out," Sam reasoned, and Elena was glad he did. The place was nice, but casual. Large enough for there to be a dance floor, but not so packed that you couldn't find seats at the bar. They were able to find three next to each other, and Dean immediately started ordering. Eventually they found themselves sharing a booth enough away from the loud music that they could actually hear one another.

Elena swirled the ice around in her drink. It was nice, she reflected, being with Sam and Dean again, talking and joking at their own table. The place was big enough and loud enough that they could sit close together and make fun of the drunks on the dance floor.

"So after tonight," she started, a little reluctantly. The brothers looked over at her. "Are…you taking me back to Bobby's?"

The two glanced at one another, then back at her. Dean shrugged casually.

"If that's what you want," he said, taking a long sip of beer. She blinked and…shrugged.

"Sure," she said, and downed a shot. Sam's gaze lingered on her face, until Dean bumped his shoulder and pointed out a guy who just split his pants trying to dance a bit too hard.

A few shots later and Elena was more than a little buzzed, though. Part of her thought it was a good idea to go on the dance floor. The other part told her to sit the fuck down. Then a third part chimed in. The part that was eyeing the list of drinks written in chalk on the far wall black board.

"I wanna try something new," she told them. "We always get the same stuff."

"Go for it," said Sam. "Just remember to pace yourself."

She stuck her tongue out at him and went to the bar and only stumbled on her heels once.

"Hi," she greeted the bartender, her speech only a little bit slurred.

"Hi," he replied with a bored expression. "Something else for you?"

"Yeah," she nodded, leaning on the counter. "I want something I've never heard of."

"That's specific," the bartender said. She glanced at his nametag that read, "Mick." He was tall, into his forties and built, like he'd worked at a few dives before this club, and not as a bartender. As a bouncer, maybe.

"Feeling adventurous?" he asked.

"Yep. Lay it on me."

"You got it."

In about five minutes, "Mick" came back with a tall glass of something iced and dark red, almost black.

"Enjoy," he said.

"What the hell is that?" With the music pounding in her ears, she didn't really catch what he said next. But he promised it would be fruity. She could've sworn he said Mongolian Nutter Butter, and hoped it wouldn't taste like peanuts and sugar.

_Fuck it_, she thought, and made the mistake of trying to throw it back like a shot. The liquid that scorched down her throat tasted like gasoline and orangey pineapples—oh, and with a side of Pepto. She found herself in a coughing fit that had the bartender asking her if she was okay.

"What the hell did you put that?" she exclaimed, and set the glass, three quarters full, down on the counter. "I just drank motor oil with a fruit basket."

"Hey, calm down, lady. If you hadn't chugged it like a milk carton maybe you wouldn't be coughing out a lung."

"Yeah, well, can you make me something that won't cost me an organ transplant?"

"Look, that was a thirty dollar drink you want to piss away. You sure you wanna go for something else?" Mick asked. Elena's eyes widened comically.

"_Thirty dollars?_ For that?" she snorted. "Look buddy, I've already got a tab. I'm not paying for something that nearly made me upchuck my lunch."

"Let me tell you the way things work around here, powder puff," Mick said, his expression turning stony. This alone was enough to spark her anger. "People order, drink, and pay their bill. No exceptions."

Just when she would've shot back with something less than pleasant, Dean's hand fell on her shoulder.

"Is there a problem here?" Dean asked with his usual disarming grin meant to diffuse the situation.

"She wants to skip out on her tab," Mick answered, but Elena shook her head.

"Not the whole thing, just the fruity carburetor fluid you gave me," she corrected, gesturing at the glass. Dean looked at it, puzzled, wondering why it was familiar.

"Let's see, it can't be all bad," he said, and sipped at it. He swallowed past the liquid fire sensation and felt a shiver run up his spine. Dean had to shake himself.

"What the fuck is that?" he coughed. Then after a moment to taste what had just been in his mouth, he almost groaned when he realized where he'd tasted that before.

"You see!" Elena exclaimed. "I told you!"

"She ordered it, not my fault she's having second thoughts," said Mick.

"You gave her a Mongolian Motherfucker?" Dean asked. "What the hell is wrong with you? A whole thing of this and she would've been passed out on the floor!"

"Look, pal. If you have that much of a problem, pay your bill and get out. People come here to have a good time, not to be bothered by people like you."

"Does she look like a heavy hitter to you? I oughta—"

"_Dean_," Sam interrupted, coming up from behind his brother. "Look, I'm his brother. I couldn't help overhearing…before you made my friend's drink, did you tell her what it was or show her the price?"

Mick stared at Sam blankly, though he could see the man was silently simmering.

"I didn't think so," Sam said smoothly, and pulled out his wallet. "But how about this. Here's our tab, and an extra fifteen dollars for the drink, and we'll be on our way."

He held out a wad of cash, and after a moment, the bartender took it and waved a dismissing hand as he turned away from them. Sam all but hauled his brother and Elena out of the club.

* * *

><p>"Next time, ask what it is first." Sam said while Dean left to go get the car. They'd had quite a few more drinks at a different bar as the night went on, and Sam and Elena were significantly more buzzed. Well, Sam was buzzed. Elena was heading down the route of plastered if she had a few more shots.<p>

"Stop bitching," she grumbled. "You're all…pissy."

He gave her an annoyed look.

"You're the one who couldn't take the heat," he pointed out. "I'm the one who had to save your ass."

She grinned up at him.

"I didn't know it was your time of the month too."

He rolled his eyes.

"Next time I won't bother."

"Whatever, Samantha," she teased, but leaned on him a bit when a gust of wind hit them. She blamed the cobbled sidewalk for throwing her balance off. "Dean's the one who blacked out the first time you dared him to drink the…Nutter Butter thing."

Sam laughed a little, conceding her point.

"At least he made a good call on going to get the car," he said. "It would suck having to drag you a mile to it."

She gave him a peeved look and shivered.

"I res…resn't that."

"I think I see him. You might wanna put on your coat."

"I don't wanna."

Sam sighed.

"You're cold."

"I'm so not," she said contrarily. He was pretty sure she was just spiting him. "If I put it on it'll be too hot."

"I hear your teeth chattering."

"It's your fault. We're standing under a vent."

"We're about to go outside where it's worse."

"You don't have yours on either. Quit being so…" She paused, obviously trying and failing for the word for it. "Pissy."

He thought about it. Slinging his arms through the sleeves of his own jacket sounded like a lot of effort.

"Fine, just get in the car," he said, shaking his head with a smile. They walked out of the nightclub, and Dean looked and them incredulously.

"Where are your jackets, dumbasses?" he said when the two climbed into the car. "It's thirty and dropping."

"I was too hot," Elena whined. Dean then looked over at his brother.

"And you?" he asked. Sam shrugged.

"I dunno, man," he said, in his defense. Or just too inebriated to care. "I didn't feel like putting it on either." Dean shook his head.

"Damn five-year-olds," he muttered, and drove back to the motel. Elena was a little more sober by the time they got there, but that wasn't saying much. Sam let Dean help her get out, as she was complaining about the thin heels on her boots being "uneven."

"Come _on_. It's like, twenty something degrees," Sam reminded them. As if they needed reminding.

"It's all right, go inside," Dean said. "I can handle this."

"…Whatever, dude," Sam said with a parting wave. He was about to crash, and crash hard on the nearest bed.

Dean got her standing on the pavement and she immediately shivered.

"It's _cold._"

"I told you," Dean said, and grabbed her coat. He wrapped it around her. "Why don't you just take off the damn heels?"

"If I bend over, I'll fall," she said factually. Her balance was screwed to hell at the moment and both of them knew it. Dean sighed. He hadn't been able to find good parking on a Saturday night, even for this rickety motel. So they were on the far end of the parking lot.

"All right, sit down." She sat down on the edge of the car seat. Dean knelt in front of her and began undoing the buckle on one of her boots, then ran the zipper all the way down. He slid it off and momentarily glanced down at her smooth legs, though they were thinly covered by black stockings.

"Do the other one," she wiggled her left foot impatiently. He breathed a laugh and obliged. Then he looked up at her, finding amusement in her almost childlike smile.

"You ready to get up?" he asked.

"Yep," she said, and held out her hands. Dean shook his head and stood, grabbing her hands to lift her up after him. She ended up too close. Their legs were brushing one another, his hands still holding hers up to his chest. The way her eyes widened when they found his made him pause, made his mouth go dry.

"Dean?" Elena asked, sounding more sober than she had before.

"Yeah."

"Thanks." Her gaze flicked to his mouth when he licked his chapped lips.

"No problem."

It wasn't long before he found himself leaning toward her. He didn't realize it until she was tilting her head up to him.

But Dean hesitated, pulled away slightly. She was vulnerable, pretty drunk at this point. The smell of alcohol mingled with her perfume.

It didn't feel right, even if her curves pressed against him did.

And then Elena pulled away too. He caught the flash of disappointment in her eyes before it was gone, replaced with her usual, if a bit inebriated self, despite her shiver at the gust of wind that blew through them.

"Come on," he said, steering her toward the motel. "Let's get inside."


	13. Natural Thing

**AN: Some good old-fashioned shenanigans coming your way, along with one of my favorite episodes from season three. Leave a quick comment in the box thing before you go, if you have one! I'm also taking one-shot requests, not just in this story-verse of Do You Recall (DYR) but for most SPN things in general.**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Do You Recall<strong>_

_XIII: Natural Thing_

Dean was about to drive Elena home, until Sam found something an hour's drive away about two mysterious deaths. They might as well check it out at least, if it was on the way to Sioux Falls. Neither Dean or Elena had a problem with that logic.

But after spending their Halloween chasing after a witch hell bent on raising a demon from hell in a situation that reminded all of them _way_ too much of what happened in Utah, Dean decided they needed another break. Just a day to catch their breath.

They'd had to deal with scheming smartass angels and Elena seeing Sam using his psychic powers for the first time. She wouldn't admit it, but they all knew it had scared her, enough that she couldn't really look or talk to Sam for the next couple days after. Dean couldn't even say anything because, well, it had scared him the first time too. Still did.

But she eventually plopped next to him on the couch one early morning with two fresh cups of coffee and a cheerful greeting to him and a look that said "_I'm sorry._" The quick but warm hug that followed surprised him, but he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and greeted her back with a smile that said, "_It's okay, I understand_," and "_Thanks._"

Seeing them in better accord put Dean in higher spirits, and gave him a hankering for some good pie. So, they went to what was supposedly the best diner in the state. He ate a plate of pasta and bread rolls, but was really excited for the pumpkin pie, more than anything.

The older waitress passed it in front of him with a kind smile and moved to the next table. He took the first bite and it practically melted in his mouth.

_Shit, that's good pie._

He looked up at the menu above the bar and found the dessert section. Looked like they had nearly ten different flavors of pie, _and _they sold it by the box. _Perfect_. He would have to remember to buy one before they left. He looked down to get another forkful and his eyes flew open.

Dean paused, fixed at the now gaping hole at the end of his slice. His eyes followed the trail of crumbs slowly to the right, then panned upward to rest on her face. Elena was munching contentedly, not even considering the danger of her seemingly harmless actions, and had the nerve to smile at him when she noticed him staring.

"'S good pie here."

She continued to chew, savoring the flavor and absently sighing through her nose. Dean looked back down at his plate with his fork still in hand.

Elena hadn't even had the decency to start at the tip of the slice like a human being. No. She had to take from the end. From the crust.

_You dirty bitch_.

Sam watched in muted horror. He didn't know what to do. Elena didn't seem bothered in the slightest by Dean's ominously blank stare. He'd never seen his brother _not react_. It was actually scaring him.

And then Dean did the unthinkable.

He nodded and went back to his dessert.

"I know right?"

Calm, like nothing had ever happened.

_Oh God._

Sam shook himself a bit and returned to his Caesar salad.

He knew nothing, and it was staying that way when they got back to the motel. He might just go to the front desk and pay for another room with a single bed. For himself.

But no. Realistically, he couldn't do that. Not only did they not have the money, but Sam was most likely going to end up being the mediator. He resisted the urge to huff out a breath, and instead called the waitress back over.

"Can I get a beer?"

"Sure thing, hon."

"Thanks."

* * *

><p>Elena was, surprisingly, in a great mood after the week they'd had.<p>

The case was finally over with, she'd gotten a _great_ night's sleep the night before, _and _she got a deal on half-priced Twinkies for Dean and buy-one-get-one Chex Mix for Sam. That way they wouldn't be out for at _least_ seven days...or five. With their metabolism, it was a guesstimate. But if that ran out, she got Cheez-Its. Those were mostly for herself.

"Hey guys," she greeted. Sam paused from skimming several newspapers and smiled up at her from the couch. Dean nodded at her with a grin, but his eyes soon drifted to the grocery bags she was carrying. She rolled her eyes, but there was a smile on her face when she set the bags in his lap for his perusal.

"I'm gunna shower. You mind if I put my music on, Sam?" Sam didn't look up from the article he was reading, and so didn't see the small smirk creeping on his brother's face as he half-pretended to be immersed in the new food she bought.

"Nah, go ahead," said Sam. He knew she liked to blast in the bathroom if she was in a good mood, but the door would muffle most of it.

Elena hummed to herself as she went over to her duffel bag that sat on her bed, and reached around for her clothes. She was able to get a clean shirt, underwear and another pair of worn, comfortable jeans, but she faltered with finding a bra. She could've sworn she'd washed all of them, tucked 'em in a wad somewhere in here. Elena fumbled around until reaching one of the bottom corners, heard a crinkling sound and felt familiar plastic. It was one of her few chocolate bars she kept on hand when she felt like munching on something sweet.

_That's weird._

The one in her hand was open. She never left trash in her bag.

Then she was pulling out all her clothes, extra shoes, her iPod, and finally got to the five snacks she usually kept in a zip-lock bag. They were strewn about, wrappers opened. She examined a Crunch bar, and her eyes widened when she saw the massive bite taken out of it. Her eyes drifted to the other four left.

_No._

She picked up the Snickers. Nearly a quarter of it was missing. Almond Joy and Butterfinger? Same. Then finally, the Twix.

_Damn it._

Both sticks were bitten nearly in half.

"Who the hell—" she muttered, but then she stilled.

* * *

><p>Dean was setting the bags of groceries on the coffee table in front of him when he felt something hard hit the back of his head.<p>

"_Ow!_"

"You _asshole!_"

He took one look at Elena's fuming expression, and started laughing.

"I fucking knew it was you!"

He fended off her slapping at him with the now broken Crunch bar and reflexively curled his legs onto the couch, leaning away from her and into Sam.

"Dean!" Sam protested. He shoved back and muttered a curse when Dean showed no signs of letting up. Sam got up from the couch and transferred all his papers to the single chair.

"Here, have the rest," she said, and dumped the chocolate bars, sans wrappers, into Dean's lap. She walked away with a satisfied smirk at hearing his vocal complaints of getting chocolate on everywhere. Elena sighed and put everything back into her bag, except for her change of clothes and her iPod. She turned it on and scrolled through her playlists as she made her way into the bathroom.

_**Fuck**__ no._

* * *

><p>"DEAN!" they heard her shout, even though the bathroom door was still wide open. "What the hell is this shit? You messed with my <em><strong>iPod?<strong>_"

Sam gave Dean a disapproving look, but the older Winchester was smirking and eating Twix.

"All genres of country and top 40s pop," he called back. "Enjoy!"

Sam shook his head.

"You're unbelievable."

"She had it coming."

Then they heard her scream in outrage.

* * *

><p>Elena's ran a frustrated hand through her hair and forced herself to breathe evenly. All her music was still on her laptop. It could be copied onto her iPod again.<p>

_I didn't even think he__** knew **__how to work an iPod! _

Despite how it looked and how she acted last night, she knew exactly why Dean had done this, and that _alone_ stopped her from strangling him. She knew he would settle the score _somehow_, but she hadn't thought he would go to the lengths he had to get her back.

Elena sighed. Whatever. She'd intended to prod the sleeping dragon, so she could live with a few half-eaten candy bars. Why she'd done it? That might be one of the eternal questions. It had been a whim, mostly. To see what he'd do. And maybe she was feeling a little emboldened by the beer, like she'd almost been last week. What happened in the parking lot replayed in her mind constantly. It dredged up memories of the post-embarrassment the morning after that she hid under the worst hangover of her life. She'd almost kissed Dean Winchester. Her best friend.

_**He**__ almost kissed you_, her thoughts treacherously corrected.

She shook her head to clear it.

_Let's not think about that._

She turned off the iPod and set it on the counter, then looked up at the mirror to take her hair out of the tight ponytail it was in. She gasped at the red streaks that had been drawn in broad strokes on the glass.

**GET OWN PIE.**

* * *

><p>"<em>DEEEEEEEEAN!<em>"

She came out of the bathroom and Dean had to duck to avoid a shoe aimed at his head.

"What?" he asked innocently. Her eyes were wide and incredulous. Slowly, her hand came up to hold a small black tube in front of her for both brothers to see. The red stick was now broken unevenly down to the base, nearly about to fall onto the floor.

"That was my _good_ goddamn lipstick!"

"Well that was my good goddamn pie!"

Her eyes widened even more, if possible, and she pointed the lipstick at him with an angrily shaking fist.

"You're buying me a new one in the next town we stop in, _goddamn it!_"

Dean sat up at the edge of his seat and pointed back at her.

"Only if you buy me a _whole pie!_"

"Oh fuck you," she seethed. And he feigned a hurt expression. She called bullshit.

"No need to get nasty."

"_I'm_ the one who got nasty? _You ruined my lipstick and ate my chocolate over a piece of __**pie!**_"

"It was _**pumpkin **_pie," as if that was a legitimate excuse.

"It was _**MAC**_ lipstick," she countered. Dean gave her a bland look.

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

Elena made a sound of pure frustration and threw the now useless tube at him. He blocked it with his hand, but frowned when it stained his palm.

"You're so…_male!_"

"Well you're so…" Dean faltered, glanced at his hand, then held it up as evidence. "Girly."

"Oh, one tube of lipstick makes me girly?"

"That, and your girly shampoo and half the shit you leave in the bathroom! Every time you come out it smells like a fucking _rainbow!_"

"Excuse me if I _don't _want to smell like a toilet all day long."

Both paused at the heavy sigh that came from the other side of the room. Sam fixed them with a look that said he was one hundred percent done with their shit.

"You're both childish."

The two looked at one another, then back to him.

"Shut up, Sam!"

"No one asked you!"

Sam just shook his head and went back to reading.

It was a good thing when he got them a case in Concrete, Washington: a small town that Dean initially jumped on at the prospect of saving naked women from ghosts in their showers. When the lead dried up, the whole thing was disappointing (not just for Dean's sake, but because they made the drive all the way out there). Until they found a man named Gus claiming (loudly) to have seen Bigfoot. The sheriff was highly skeptical, but after questioning the man and finding the place where he supposedly saw the thing…they found footprints.

Big footprints.

They followed them through the woods and to a general store that was pretty much trashed. The front door was broken open, bags of food littered on the floor, bottles upon bottles of booze broken. The whiskey shelves were significantly depleted.

"So what, Bigfoot breaks into a liquor store jonesing for some hooch?" Dean mused aloud. He squatted on the floor to examine the brown bottles. "Amaretto and Irish Cream."

He looked up at Sam with a grin.

"He's a girl-drink drunk."

"I resent that," Elena quipped.

"Yeah, well. You don't count."

She scoffed.

"What, as a girl?"

"You're not a girl-drink drinker."

"…Okay. That should prove my point."

"Elena," said Dean, "If it weren't for this job, you wouldn't _be_ a drinker."

"What does that have to do with anything?" she asked. "I'm still a girl, aren't I?"

"Guys," Sam cut in, annoyance and amusement fighting for dominance. "Focus."

He walked over to the magazine rack and called them over. Dean raised his eyebrows.

"He took the whole porno rack?"

Sam pulled out a tuft of brown fur from between the shelves.

"Curiouser and curiouser," Elena muttered.

"I'll say it again," said Dean. "What the hell is going on in this town?"

They exited the trashed store and sat on a bench outside, no closer to figuring out what was happening than before. And then a little girl on her bike rode past with a yellow crate attached to the back, and a magazine flew out. Dean picked it up and they all looked at the provocative cover.

"She's a little young for _Busty Asian Beauties._"

* * *

><p>Her house was too large and too well kept for just one little girl, as they soon found out her parents weren't home, it boded more red flags as to the weirdness level. Especially after she started talking about her teddy bear, rather than a Bigfoot doing all the shoplifting and booze drinking and porno reading.<p>

Under the guise of…teddy bear doctors ready to treat her mentally unstable stuffed animal, they went into the house upstairs and to her bedroom.

"He's in my room…he's really grumpy," she warned, and knocked on the door. "Teddy? There's some nice doctors here to see you!"

She opened the door.

"Close the friggin' door!" came the squeaking reply from a large, stuffed bear with black buttons for eyes. But it was life size, and it was scaring the hell out of Elena.

"_What the fuck?_" she mouthed to Dean, who slowly shook his head and shared a wide-eyed look with Sam when the girl closed the door again.

"See what I mean?" she pleaded.

"How long has your bear been able to…talk?" Elena asked.

"All I ever wanted was a teddy bear that was big, real, and talked," she told them. "But now he's sad all the time. Not ouch sad, but ouch in the head sad. He does weird stuff, and smells like the bus!"

"Um, little girl," Dean began, but she cut him off with a pointed, "Audrey!"

He paused, eyes widening.

"_Audrey_," he corrected himself, "how exactly did your teddy become real?"

"I wished for it," she said simply.

"You wished for it?" Sam repeated.

"At the wishing well."

Dean nodded and opened the door again. Teddy was watching the news while drinking out of a whiskey bottle; a bombing that had buildings up in flames.

"Can you believe this crap?" he asked Dean incredulously.

"…Not really."

"It is a _terrible_ world." He looked over sharply, startling Dean a bit. "_WHY_ am I _HERE?_"

"For tea parties!" Audrey insisted.

"Tea parties…is that all there is?" the bear cried. His mouth moved when he talked and it was unnerving with that huge red bow around his neck and glassy, plastic beads for eyes. Dean closed the door when the teddy bear began to weep.

"You look traumatized," Elena whispered to him. He leaned over to her.

"I think the bear is worse off."

"Audrey," said Sam gently, "Give us a second, okay?"

She nodded, and the three of them stepped to the side.

"Are we…should we…" Sam paused, then whispered, "Are we going to kill this teddy bear?"

"_How?_" Dean asked. "Do we shoot it, burn it?"

"I don't know."

"_Guys,_" Elena interjected. "We can't kill this poor little girl's bear!"

"Besides, I don't want some giant, flaming pissed off toy on our hands," said Dean.

"Yeah…I don't think the bear is really the core problem here," Sam pointed out.

"And why is this girl home alone?" asked Elena. They turned to Audrey, and Sam asked her where her parents were.

"My mom wished they were in Bali, so I think they're in Bali."

That threw Sam for a loop.

"Okay…well, I'm really sorry to have to break this to you, but your bear is sick," he said. Audrey frowned sadly. "Yeah, he's got, uh…"

"Lollipop disease," Dean finished. Sam agreed on it, while Elena wanted to slap her hand over her face. "It's not uncommon for a bear his size, but see, it's really contagious."

"Yeah, so is there maybe a grownup that you can stay with while we treat him?" Sam asked.

"Well, Mrs. Turley lives down the street," she said. Dean nodded in approval.

"Yeah, perfect," said Sam. "We'd like you to stay there for a few days, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed.

"Oh, and Audrey?" Dean asked. "Where is this wishing well?"

* * *

><p>They walked in the Chinese restaurant just as a blonde ten-year-old was walking out, brushing past Dean. There was a "wishing well" in the center of the place.<p>

"Think it works?" Dean asked.

"Any other reason for Teddy back there?" Sam replied. Dean pursed his lips and nodded.

"There's one way to find out," he said, reaching into his pocket. He tossed in a coin and closed his eyes while making his wish.

"What are you gunna wish for?"

"Shhh. Not supposed to tell."

The front doorbell rang as it opened, a delivery man in a green outfit holding a sub.

"Anyone order a foot-long Italian with jalapeño?" Dean raised his hand hesitantly.

"That would be me," he said. They sat down at a table with his free sub, which he was quite content with. Between the sandwich, the teddy, and the guy winning the lottery in the local paper, that pretty much nailed the wishing well as being legit.

"And I'm guessing that," Sam said, gesturing with his eyes to the couple eating together, but being all flirty and nauseating. He was clearly the mathlete back in high school with his khaki pants and sweater vest and glasses, while she'd been the prom queen, all eyelash curlers and miniskirts. Something didn't match up there.

"I dunno, they seem happy to me," said Elena.

"Add that to the list," Dean muttered. "What are we supposed to do, huh? Stop people's wishes from coming true? Sounds like kind of a douchey thing to do."

"Yeah maybe," Sam allowed. "But come on, man. When it's something like this it doesn't come without a price tag. And usually a deadly one."

"Eh. I don't know," said Dean. "This is a damn good sandwich."

He took another large bite.

"All right, we stay until we find out what's wrong."

An older Chinese man, most likely the restaurant's manager, came up to their table and informed them that they didn't allow people to eat "outside" food in the restaurant. Dean coolly came back with a health inspector badge, prompting Sam and Elena to do the same, and claimed the place had a rat infestation. The manager was beside himself, but it allowed them to examine the fountain once the place was closed and everyone was out.

It was a more or less typical fountain, save for the hexed coin they found at the bottom. They couldn't pry it off, not even with a hammer and crowbar that almost gave the manager a heart attack. Sam used a piece of paper and a pencil to shade the coin's mark. He shoved it into Dean's hands.

"You gotta look into this."

"Why me?"

"Because something just occurred to me."

With that he walked out the door, leaving Dean and Elena to look at one another curiously. And to deal with the manager giving them the evil eye.

* * *

><p>After they managed to talk down the old man and escape the restaurant unscathed, Dean and Elena made their way to the motel they'd book that morning. Passing through a courtyard and parking lot, a group of boys ran straight through with a smaller blonde kid chasing after them. The kid stopped to meet Dean's stare.<p>

_Wait a second, _he thought._ That's the kid from the…_

"You got a problem, mister?" he asked pointedly. Dean's eyes widened.

"N-No." The boy nodded after a second and went after the boys that had been chasing him around just that morning.

"You gunna give him your lunch money?" Elena teased. Dean gave her a sideways glance.

"Shut up."

He paused, holding his stomach when it gurgled loudly. A sharp pain hit him in the lower abdomen.

"Is your stomach imploding?" she asked, sidestepping from him.

"Oooh, I don't feel good."

"Oh shit."

It was a mad dash back to the motel, where Dean subsequently upchucked everything he'd ever eaten. At least, that's what it felt like. For the first twenty minutes, he'd closed the bathroom to be by himself in his misery, but just when his legs started to go numb from kneeling, he heard a gentle knock on the door.

"Hey…you okay?"

Dean groaned. He used the counter as leverage to get up. Then Elena was there with a cup full of cold water and some Tums for when he washed his mouth out.

"Thanks," he murmured. Embarrassment kept him from looking at her face, but he would've seen her amused and sympathetic smile.

"I think it was the jalapeño," she teased lightly, and dabbed at his sweaty face with a damp towel after he'd eaten the Tums (or Pepto-patties, as Dean called them; just with more flavors).

"I think I just gave up a kidney," he said with a moan, and held up a finger. "Hold up."

To his relief Elena left the bathroom while he continued to vomit, but by the time he was done she was back with more water. The front door opened and closed, signaling Sam's arrival.

"_Dean…you all right?_"

"He's okay now," said Elena.

"The wishes turn bad, Sam," Dean said weakly. "The wishes turn very bad."

"Sandwich, huh?"

"Yeah. The coin is Babylonian," he told Sam. "It's cursed. I found some fragments of a legend…"

Dean paused a moment to cough, hating the taste of bile that made its way up his throat and went back down.

"I'm good," he grinned weakly, to which Sam smiled back with pity.

"The serpent is Tiamet," said Elena as she sat on the bed across from him. "The Babylonian god of primordial chaos. Their priests must have been working on serious black magic."

They made the coin?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," said Dean, who sat down next to Elena. "To sow the seeds of chaos. Whoever makes a wish at the wishing well and tosses in the coin turns on the well. Then it starts granting wishes to all comers."

"But the wishes get twisted," Sam supplied with a grin. "You ask for a talking teddy…"

"You get a bipolar nut job."

"And you get E. coli." Dean's expression turned grim as he sipped at his water.

"This thing has even wiped a few _cities_ off the map_,_" said Elena. "One person gets their wish, that's trouble, but if _everybody_ gets they're wish…"

"It's chaos," Sam finished. "Anyway to stop it?"

"One way," Dean nodded. "We gotta find the first wisher. Whoever dropped the coin in and made the first wish, they're the only ones who can pull it back out and reverse the wishes. So for now we've got a couple of nutso wishes come true, but once the word gets out about the well, things are just gunna get crazier and crazier."

* * *

><p>Deciding that they needed their five hours and no one would be awake by then anyway, they tried to sleep. It didn't come so easy for Sam, so he ended up getting up in a couple hours to research, while Elena woke maybe four hours after they went to sleep. She didn't get out of bed, but after a few minutes of being awake, she saw Dean twitching in his sleep. It made Sam clench his jaw when he saw.<p>

"He's having a nightmare," she said quietly. Sam didn't answer, though it looked like he knew exactly what Dean was going through when he started murmuring in his sleep.

"Sam, we should wake him up."

_That's good actually_, Sam thought. _Maybe he'll finally tell both of us how he remembers Hell._

Sam knew it. Elena wanted to believe Dean's lie.

"_Dean,_" Sam said loud enough to rouse his brother, who woke with a start, fumbling to get into a sitting position.

"Sleep well?" Sam asked knowingly.

"Tanned, rested and ready for action," Dean said, and it was weak even to his own ears. Elena frowned when he picked up a bottle of whiskey off the floor and took a swig.

"I know what's happening." Dean looked back at Sam.

"What do you mean?"

"The nightmares, the drinking—I'm with you 24/7, Dean, I know when something's up," said Sam. And it looked like Elena finally believed it too. Dean signed and tossed the bottle onto the bed.

"Sam, please."

"Uriel wasn't lying, but you are." Dean got up, but Sam stayed in his seat, watching him with perceptive eyes. "You remember Hell, don't you?"

Dean looked from his brother's expectant face to Elena's sad one, and back.

"What do you want from me, huh?" he asked, smiling though there was no humor in it. "What?"

"The _truth_, Dean," said Sam. "I mean, I'm your brother. I just wish you'd _talk_ to me."

It was in times like this that Elena realized this was a brother to brother conversation, even if she was in the room. Sometimes it forced the other to be more honest knowing she was there to call bullshit, other times it did the opposite, and they waited for an actual one on one conversation to say what they had to say. She didn't mind it, preferred it actually. Sometimes she felt caught in the middle, forced to pick a side, back when she'd first joined them and stress levels were at an all time high with Dean's demon deal.

But now felt like one of those times where Dean's hand would be forced, because both she and Sam were listening and waiting for him to answer.

"Be careful what you wish for," he said, grinning a little.

"Cute," Sam said, sarcasm coloring his tone.

"Come on, can we stow the couple's therapy, huh? I wanna work."

Or Dean could weasel his way out of talking. Fine, Elena thought. But he couldn't do it forever.

The problem they faced with the case was they had three options that they knew of from the last two weeks: an invisible kid that Sam caught the day before spying on women in the shower, the guy with the girlfriend way out of his league, and the teddy bear. Not to mention any others they hadn't heard of yet. Dean pointed out the local newspaper, which listed Wesley Mondale and Hope Casey as newly engaged—the couple in the restaurant.

"Really?" Elena said, her expression dimming.

"Why, what's the matter?" asked Dean.

"I just…they looked happy to me," she said. If that guy had made a wish just to get the love of a pretty girl he never thought he could have in real life…

That kind of thing tended to piss her off.

"Yeah, cause the guy wished on a coin."

Elena didn't answer. It tipped off both of the brothers, but Dean wouldn't press it right after he'd just diverted Sam's "twenty questions."

Instead, they asked around town and made their way to Wesley's house. Who they could only assume was Hope opened the door with a confused look, one that brightened into a smile when they introduced themselves as florists her fiancé had asked to drop by and discuss possibilities for the wedding. "Wes" was sitting comfortable in a living room chair and a plate of roasted chicken untouched beside him on a tray, and the smile plastered on his face fell as Hope left the room to go get her "folders" of wedding ideas.

"So, coin collector. Huh, Wes?" Sam commented. He viewed the shelves on the wall with several coins in a glass case, none of which that looked the same.

"Oh yeah," Wes said absently, then, catching their meaning, his tone turned less absent-minded. "My grandfather gave them to me."

"You happen to lose one of those coins lately?" Dean asked. "And by 'lose' I mean drop it in a wishing well at _Lucky Chin's_, and make a wish on it."

Of course Wes denied it, like they knew he would, and Hope returned with a massive folder filled with labels and dividers.

"I was thinking a Japanesey…Cabana kind of thing, ya know?" she said with a smile. Dean returned it with mock enthusiasm, knowing she wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

"That sounds great. I can see it."

"So, Hope," said Sam, "When did you two love birds meet?"

"Oh, best day of my life," she sighed. "It's the funniest thing…we both grew up here but I never really knew who he was. Not by name anyway."

_Shocker_, Elena thought, and watched Wes become more nervous.

"Until one day last month, it's like I just…_saw_ him," said Hope, caressing Wes's face after setting down the load in her hands. "The first time he was just…glowing."

"Uh, babe, can you get us some coffee?" Wes tried to diffuse the heat they all could see in Hope's eyes, but couldn't keep her hands off him when she attacked his lips. The hunters could only stare as he eventually was able to pry her off. She practically skipped to the kitchen.

"We know, Wes," Sam said bluntly when she was out of earshot. "So tell us the truth."

After a moment, Wes sighed and led them over to the coin collection. He explained that his grandfather found it during a trip in Africa and brought it back, claiming it was a real wish-granting coin, though no one should ever use it.

"Yeah…he was all I had," said Wes. "And when he died, I thought, 'well, you know what? Why not give the coin a shot?'"

"Yeah, well, now you're gunna wish it back," said Sam. Wes laughed a bit, but when their faces remained stony, he realized they were serious.

"Oh, ha-ha. No I'm _not,_" he refused.

"If you don't stop, something bad is going to happen," Elena warned.

"Something bad," Sam agreed, "Like us."

Dean pulled out his gun and held it casually.

"We really wish you'd come with us."


	14. Natural Thing II

**AN: Okay, I hope you don't mind but I'm going to diverge from the timeline a bit in this chapter. You'll see what I mean. ****I love your feedback, and it'll determine whether I keep going on this story after a few more chapters.**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Do You Recall<strong>_

_XIV: Natural Thing, Part II_

Elena would really rather not be sharing air with Wes in the backseat, especially when he started moaning and groaning about having to un-wish the wish. He really just didn't get it. Besides the fact that the wishes went sour, Sam and Dean were trying and failing to convince this guy that his "wish" wasn't working. Neither were the ones in the rest of the town, as judged by the downwards spiral it was going in.

"'Careful what you wish for,'" Wes mocked. "You know who says that? Good-looking jerks like _you_ guys. The ones who got it so easy because you happen to be handsome."

"_Easy?_" Sam and Dean said in disbelief. Elena had no words for the stupidity.

"Yeah, women look at you. They notice you." Wes then looked over at Elena. "That's why you're here with them right?"

All three of them bristled at the implication, but Elena beat both brothers to the punch. Her terse look made Wes retreat a bit to his side of the backseat.

"Let's get something straight here, _fuckwit."_She leaned towards him, staring with slate grey eyes. "Mind your damn business."

Wes wisely dropped his gaze and didn't say anything.

"Nobody gets what they want in life," Dean said after the tense moment somewhat passed. "We don't. We're miserable. In fact, we've gotta fight tooth and nail just to keep what we have."

"You get what you want, you go crazy," Sam added.

"Yeah, just look at Michael Jackson. Or Hasselhoff," said Dean.

"Well you know what? Hope loves me now. Completely," said Wes, grating on Elena even more. "Besides, I don't see what crazy stuff you're talking about."

Until they came to a red stoplight and could hear kids screaming in fear in the parking lot to their right. The blonde kid from earlier had his bullies trapped in an SUV, where he was taunting them by tapping on the front car door, and finally tipped the whole thing over with his own strength.

"_Kneel before Tod!_" he demanded, while the kids inside screamed.

"Well, that should cover it!" said Dean, and hopped out of the car. At seeing Tod begin to rock the SUV back and forth, Elena followed him out, hearing his instructions to Sam to get Wes to the restaurant. They didn't wait for the car to peel away before they hurried over to Tod.

"Hey, kid. Can I talk to you for a second?" Dean asked. Tod glared at him and began stalking towards Dean.

"Get out of my way," he demanded. Both Dean and Elena backed off.

"Hey, whoa. I can dig it, Tod…it's Tod right?" Dean asked, bending down to his level. "Look, I know the score. Those guys have been bullying you."

"Every day. _Every day_, you _don't know_ what it's like!" the boy exclaimed.

"No," Dean admitted. "No, I don't. But you're you and I'm me, so—"

"I couldn't stop them. I couldn't do anything," said Tod, glancing down at his feet. But he looked up again, more assured of himself. "But then Audrey told me that the wishing well worked."

Elena bent down, somewhat warily, but trying her best to be nonthreatening.

"Tod, you got 'em back, buddy," she said gently. "Got 'em good. They're never going to come after you again, I guarantee it."

"I know," he replied. "But that doesn't change all the times I had to miss the bus and walk to school cause they'd be there waiting for me, or every time I had to run home cause they found me after school."

"Okay, look, I get it. They're mean little jerks," said Dean. "But they're not superhuman, like you. See, with great power, comes great—"

Elena gasped as Dean went flying into the garbage bins from Tod's solid punch. When he started toward her, she backed up a bit with placating hands. The last thing she wanted to do was beat up a ten-year-old.

"Tod, listen to me—" He tried to kick her in the shin and she was able to dodge, but when he managed to grab her wrist and yanked down, his strength forced her onto the ground. He twisted her wrist at an awkward angle, and with enough pressure he could break it with ease.

"Hey, kid!" Dean shouted, coming up behind them. "I didn't want to have to do this, but—"

He threw a punch that caught the kid in the jaw, but ended up hurting Dean a lot more than it hurt Tod. Dean made a noise of pain and frustration and sunk to his knees. Tod grabbed Dean by the throat and Elena by the hair and began squeezing, not letting go no matter how much they struggled.

And then, Tod let go, looking at his hands in confusion. His strength was gone, Dean could breath, and Elena didn't feel like her hair was about to be ripped out. She let Dean deal with the kid, conning the others just climbing out of the car that Tod was no one to be messing with. Then Dean walked back to Elena, who stood crossing her arms.

"Were you really going to quote _Spiderman_ at him?" she said, a teasing smile on her lips. He shrugged, grinning.

"Hey, gotta put it in words the kid'll understand." She laughed, nodding in accession.

Slowly they made their way to _Lucky Chin's _and met up with Sam, who held the unlucky coin in his hand. First things first, they had it melted down, then they split up and went through the town, made sure all the other wishes had resolved.

After checking on the now visible teenager, Elena found herself wandering the dirt roads of the small town, looking at the shops and letting busier people breeze by her. Until a shoulder bumped into hers, and she looked up to the startled face of Wes.

"Uh…sorry," he said.

"No, it's fine."

He was obviously alone now, as Hope was nowhere in sight, and he had the look of one miserable sap.

"You okay?" Elena asked him, reluctantly, because she already knew the answer. Wes looked up at her, swallowed, and shook his head.

"No." He glanced down at the ground, hands in his pockets, then back up. "I um…I came home to an empty house…the only girl I ever cared about doesn't know I'm alive, and…"

He sighed.

"I guess that's the way things are supposed to be."

It was Elena's turn to sigh. She knew what it was like to come home to an empty house and feel like you had nothing and no one left.

"Wes…if you honest to God want her to know you, just go up and talk to her," she said. "Get to know her. Get to know _people_. Look for a job. Find out what you want to do with your life. You can't live hiding in your house…your grandfather probably wouldn't want that for you."

"Yeah, that easy, huh?" he asked, huffing a skeptical breath.

"No. It's not," she said. "But it's a hell of a lot better than being alone."

He didn't answer, but maybe that dejected look in his eyes lighted the smallest bit with understanding.

"Bye, Wes," she said, and headed on her way down the street, where she met up with Sam and Dean. Things looked tense between them, but she didn't think this was the time to ask. They walked to where he parked the Impala and got in.

"You find invisi-perv?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, and our friend Wes," she replied. "Looks like someone killed his puppy in front of him."

"Yeah, getting your favorite toy taken away does that to you," he snorted.

"I think it was a little more than _that_."

Dean glanced at her through the rearview mirror.

"Since when are you his cheerleader?"

Elena grimaced.

"I'm not. But I kinda feel bad for him," she said. Dean gave her a flat look. Sam didn't have much cause to agree with her either.

"Why, 'cause he had to put a spell on a wishing well just to get laid?"

"More than that, a relationship with a girl he genuinely liked."

"Obviously it wasn't golden," Dean said dryly. "It wasn't even real."

She conceded that point with a nod.

"But when it is, it's…nice," she said while looking out at the long stretch of road before them. "More than nice. He wanted that."

And that sentiment Sam couldn't argue with. Dean saw the identical pensive expressions on their faces as they looked out of their respective windows.

* * *

><p>The motel was just as rundown as Elena remembered. The thought of facing dull beige walls and beds older than her, a ceiling with spots of yellowed leakage and an air conditioning that only worked when you beat it into submission…for the first time in months, she craved being home. Not Bobby's house, though it was a comfort to her, but the home she'd had for most of her childhood in Hill City, South Dakota—a town wedged in the heart of the Black Hills that made more money in lumber than tourism. A town that was so small that, when she lived there, every day going to work she still saw many of the people she went to school with and had known all her life, just going about their day.<p>

So while Sam was in the shower and Dean sat on the couch with a Snickers bar he'd stolen from her now packed bag, Elena off-handedly told him she was going to get some air, and stepped outside onto the wooden porch. She breathed in the clean Washington air and wished she could smell pines and timber. Leaning against the railing, she allowed herself to daydream a bit while watching the clouds roll by. She almost didn't hear the door open behind her.

"Hey," Dean said, coming to lean against the railing beside her. "We're leaving in a bit."

"Kay," she nodded a little. He glanced over at her and caught the absent look on her face.

"What're you thinking about?"

"I dunno…sometimes you wonder why things happen the way they do," she said, "Why people never get what they really want. That little girl will have a fucked up teddy bear in her memory forever. Wes thinks he's going to die alone. We're going to end up doing this for the rest of our lives…"

She was starting to see why Sam and Dean discouraged her from coming back to hunting in the beginning, why her father had for all those years. It was a crappy job but…she couldn't _not_ be in it now. Her life had revolved it since she was fourteen, and there was no way to go back to being quiet. Normal. Because she wasn't anymore.

Elena hadn't felt normal in a long time.

"It doesn't have to be all bad," said Dean, turning his gaze to the now quieted city. "Wes learned a lesson, and he'll hold onto that. As for us…well, that doesn't have to be all bad either."

He looked back at her.

"So we move around, so we don't get paid for shit. It's better than dragging other people down with us or letting them die."

He'd been where she was, questioning what the point was when people still died, were still miserable, and when doing what they were doing didn't pay half as much as it should. But they did help people, and that made the difference.

"Yeah," she said. "But at the cost of never really being happy?"

Elena sighed and met his green gaze.

"I know…in our line of work, relationships, a home—all that shit…they're all precursors to a sad, bloody ending. But when you have it…it's someone there when your day goes to shit, and they remind you there's still something to look forward to."

Elena's gaze wasn't focused on him now, had moved past him. She crossed her arms over her chest and paused, taking in a breath that coursed throughout her body and left her feeling somewhat hollow.

"When it's good, you _know_, because no matter how things around you _do _go to shit, you're still better off with them there than if they're gone because they know you, and they stay anyway."

There was a brief moment of silence between them as Dean thought about it. She'd revealed a lot more about herself than she probably realized. He knew what she was saying though. It was why losing his mom had driven John nearly to the brink, why losing Jessica had nearly ended his brother and haunted him with oppressive guilt. But Dean's time with Cassie—a thought he hardly allowed himself to remember since leaving her in Missouri—had been too short for him to truly know for himself.

"And when did it go bad for you?"

Her eyes met his, and a melancholy smile touched her lips.

"He found someone who wasn't 'secretive,'" she bit her lip, remembering. It hadn't bothered her for a while now, but every now and then, she would remember. "A 'compulsive liar.'"

Hell, could he understand how that was.

"Sorry," Dean said genuinely. Elena smiled a little, but it didn't last long.

"Doesn't matter," she said after a bit. "It probably won't ever happen again…maybe I'm better off."

He knew what she meant, but to get her to smile again, he said, "Aw, really? Don't tell me you're givin' up on men cause of one douche bag."

She raised one brow, but he succeeded in getting an amused smile on her face.

"I don't know, maybe I'll have better luck with someone that understands me as a woman," she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Who better than a woman?"

Dean's brows rose suggestively as he leant toward her. "Nah. You're just in need of a real man."

She rolled her eyes.

"Like you? Right. Honestly, I don't see the appeal," she teased, gesturing to his form. "From a guy who spent half the day upchucking the past week's takeout."

"Aw, come on, Lena," he wheedled and leaned over to her, purposefully getting in her personal space. She predictably leaned away, but her smile deepened despite her best efforts.

"Oh, go away."

"You know you want me," he teased, and once again raised suggestive brows, playfully prodding at her sides lightly and making her simultaneously flinch and giggle.

"Deeean…" she whined and tried in vain to push his hands away. He drew closer and trapped her with an arm around her waist, leaving his other hand free to mercilessly attack her sides. Through her girlish laughter Elena grabbed his arms to stop him, but only succeeded when she looked up at his face that was much closer than before. She watched his grin fade into a more concentrated look. Her eyes blinked and found his, staring down at the inches of space between them with his arms wrapped around her waist, then up again when she bit her lip nervously. His eyes, no longer playful, were drawn to it.

Elena intended to avoid that look by pulling away, hopefully to head inside the motel room and to a hot shower. But her feet wouldn't move according to what her brain was telling her to do. Neither was the rest of her body as her chin tilted up toward him. And then his lips were crashing onto hers and coherent thought fled.

Her hands slid into his hair as his own drifted from her waist to the small of her back, pinning her against him. In two steps she was pressed against the wall, bringing every part of her, chest, hips, and thighs, aligned with him. Her left hand trailed down his back, lightly dragging her nails. She felt him shiver a little, but she reflexively clenched the fabric of his shirt when his tongue teased hers.

But as suddenly as it began, it stopped, with him pulling away and leaving her panting as she leaned against the wall. Her eyes were wide and confused, while his were mischievous and full of satisfaction. Although she also caught the bit of lust there (_that_ made her already racing heart pound audibly in her head), his stance told of playful confidence once again.

"Told you." His voice was rougher than usual; deeper, almost making her shiver. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Her brain was short-circuiting, a muddled heap of crisscrossed wires. Elena was sure a blush stemmed from the base of her throat to her cheeks—she could feel the heat emanating from her own skin. So she made a hasty retreat.

* * *

><p>He watched her bolt inside the motel room, nearly smacking into Sam as he was coming out.<p>

"—S-Sorry, Sam," she mumbled, but still flit past him. His face was the picture of confusion as the door shut behind him, until he looked up at saw Dean.

"Dean." Not surprise, just exasperated resignation from his little brother.

"What do you want?" He regretted nothing.

Sam knew it, even if he didn't know what exactly happened.

"What did you do?" he asked, lowering his voice. He tried restraining himself from sounding accusatory, but didn't quite manage it.

"None of your business," Dean teased. "The adults were talking."

"_Dean._"

"This is one thing we _don't _need to talk about, Sam." Dean tried to walk past his brother into the room, but Sam's grip on his jacket near his shoulder stopped him.

"This is Elena, all right?" Sam said sharply.

"I _know_."

He really didn't think Dean did.

"She's family," Sam warned.

Dean knew.

It had been a moment of weakness on his part, acting on that gut feeling elicited by the look in her eyes when she'd tried to tease him back. That bit of longing she couldn't quite cover up, the way her eyes roamed up and down and instinctively liked what they saw. Dean knew that look. He'd seen it plenty on other women before when they looked at him, but never had it been in the eyes of someone who _knew_ him, had experienced his personality on the worst of days and still was there to look at him like that.

But he also knew the look because he'd been making it too. Whenever he managed to piss her off and she stormed away, hips swaying, or when she was lacing up her boots nearly the length of her calf, letting her shirt ride up on her back and making her jean-clad ass more prominent. Or the time she'd dolled herself up to go to that bar.

But sometimes, it was less obvious. Sometimes, it was just the way she laughed at one of his jokes, dirty or otherwise. That full body laugh that had her spluttering if he caught her off guard; that had him wanting to laugh with her.

He'd just wanted to see what it would be like. A knee-jerk impulse he wasn't able to curb, and he wasn't disappointed.

_One night…might not be so bad._

It was tempting.

He wasn't quite able to shake off the thought, but pinned Sam with a firm look that said to drop it.

"You don't need to tell me that."

"Obviously not, if I have to say it."

Both brothers glared at one another.

"Look, whatever it is," Sam said eventually, "If it's something you just need to get out of your system or whatever, do what you have to do. Just don't use her to do it."

Dean's glare deepened, his jaw clenched. He'd never _use_ her.

"All right?" Sam prodded. The older Winchester offered a slightly mocking smile before turning away from him.

"Let's get the car packed up. I'm ready to get the hell out of here."

* * *

><p>The car ride was unusually quiet after that. So Sam found the next case in Poughkeepsie, New York. Something about five men in five nights being found on the side of the highway near an old, broken down bridge by the Hudson River, their bodies completely drained of blood.<p>

"Vampire?" Dean asked while passing a drifting car on the highway. A choice finger was itching to stick out the window. "Fucking people on their cell phones, man."

"Something ripped their skin off, or ate it," Sam said, shaking his head. "Just left the insides…like an animal that leaves the carcass."

"Okay, ew," said Elena. Sam gave her a sympathetic look.

"Yeah. You don't want to see the pictures."

"Okay…did they report any survivors?" she asked.

"Not so far, but when we get there and take a look at what the police have, we may be able to narrow down what could've done this."

"So New York, huh?" Dean asked. His expression grew sly, suggestive as his gaze slid to his brother. "I seem to recall something, or _someone_ being from around there."

Sam rolled his eyes while Elena remained confused.

"Dean…" he warned, knowing full well Dean was getting him back for what happened just a few hours ago.

"You remember, Sammy. Long brown hair, blue eyes, had a thing for old paintings and your luscious locks," Dean teased. "Cool chick, that one. Had guts."

"Who are we talking about?" Elena asked in amusement while Sam tried to pretend his brother wasn't talking.

"Oh, what _was_ her name, Sam? I've seemed to forget—" Sam sighed loudly and turned to Elena.

"Sarah Blake. Saved her from a haunted painting…that was a long time ago now." He gave his brother a pointed look. "Almost _four years_ ago."

"And he was crushing on her hardcore," said Dean. "Like a high school geek."

Sam glared at his brother, while Elena, still smiling, shook her head at Dean's antics even though she was still finding it hard to look at him without blushing.

"Maybe after the case is done we'll head farther _up_state," Dean suggested, waggling his brows.

"Shut up," Sam laughed, shaking his head. "She probably wouldn't remember me anyway. It's not like I ever called. Four years is a long time."

"You think she wouldn't remember the guy who saved her life?" Dean pointed out. Sam quieted, and Elena could see that part of him was considering the idea. But there was a greater part that was weighing the possible consequences.

"I can't uproot her life like that again. Not now when," he paused, then sighed. "We've got a lot to deal with right now."

"Yeah but—"

"Dean," Sam shook his head. "Just…no. Forget it."

He left the living area to get his bag from the bedroom, leaving Dean and Elena to share a look.

"He must have really liked her," Elena said sympathetically.

"Yeah…" Dean sighed. "He's right though…a lot of shit's happened since then. A lot of shit's happening now."

He paused.

"And frankly…he's not the same guy he was."

Elena nodded hesitantly. She'd seen the evidence of that. But underneath all that…Sam was still Sam. It looked like he was learning from his mistakes. Above all, she could still count on him, and still trusted him with her life.

"Not all of that could be a bad thing, though."

* * *

><p>"It's no mystery, guys," the doctor told them, sliding the remains back into the metal compartment. "People that live close to the road there heard a coyote howling. I'm sure the police told you how the first victim's wife said her husband saw one on the road, went outside to steer it away from his chickens in case it got too close, shoot it if he had to, and he never came back. I pulled canine hairs and other DNA off the victims. Now it's just the police tracking down the bastard."<p>

"A coyote?" Elena clarified.

"They're pretty common around here. Folks know the difference between that and a dog," he said. "It'd have to be a pretty rabid dog, though."

"And the black dress the police found torn to shreds last night…were you able to find a DNA match?" A female victim _would_ be out of the pattern if it wasn't just a coyote.

"That's the only strange bit," said the doctor. "I did find the same hairs on the dress, but nothing else matched any of the victims we found. It's possible that there are more remains the police didn't find."

"All right," Sam said eventually, "thank you for your time."

"No problem. Don't know why FBI is interested in this, but good luck to you."

Once the three of them were out of the lab, they looked at one another in confusion.

"So not a vampire. The lunar cycle isn't right for it to be a werewolf, not to mention the heart was still relatively intact," Dean ticked off with his fingers. "You think it's still our kinda gig?"

"I dunno, one man every night?" said Sam. "That sounds too exact and too out of the ordinary for it to be _just_ a coyote attack. They go after rabbits and mice, maybe livestock, but not people."

"Okay, so what are we thinking, skinwalker maybe?" said Elena.

"Either that or a rabid Wile E. Coyote," Dean remarked. "I still wanna talk to that guy that got away last night, what was his name?"

Sam took out the notepad from his jacket.

"Jason Fields."

* * *

><p>"It was a woman," Jason told them. His manner was subdued as he sat in his lawn chair, mug of tea in hand with a black and white sheep dog lying by his feet. He was an older man in his fifties with an average build. But what stood out to Sam was the long scratch across the man's stubbled face.<p>

"A _woman?_" said Dean, disbelief coloring his tone.

"At first."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"She was just standing there, blocking the road."

"Okay…what did she look like."

"After my Beth, probably the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen," Jason admitted.

"Beth?" Dean asked.

"My wife."

"Okay, other than that," said Sam, leading the man along. "Coloring, what she was wearing…"

"She had red hair, if I remember. Bright red…she was wearing a dark dress."

That made the three hunters pause as they made the connection to the unknown dress found in the tall grass.

"What did you do then?"

"I asked her why she was out on the road, if she needed a ride anywhere. It was pretty late at night, I figured maybe her car had broken down or something."

"Was there a car anywhere?" Elena asked.

"No, and she didn't ask for a ride either. Just said she was looking for company," he said, then rubbed the back of his neck. "I said I could take her home if she wanted, but I had to get home to my wife and Josie here."

His dog perked up at the sound of her name, her tongue wagging.

"What did the woman do?" said Sam.

"Got in the passenger seat. Started to get a bit too friendly, if you know what I mean," said Jason. "I tried to push her off…but then she bit me."

"Bit you," Elena repeated.

"Yep, and none too gentle. I cursed pretty loud, and she backed off screaming. That's when I noticed she'd torn a chunk out of my neck, and I damn well pushed her out of the car when she kept trying to get at me like some rabid animal," said Jason. He still had a large gauze pad on the side of his neck to prove it. "After that…I drove to the police station fast as I could and told 'em everything."

"How'd you get that?" Sam asked, gesturing to the wound on Jason's face.

"The bitch scratched me. Her nails…they were almost like claws or something," he replied tiredly.

Sam and Dean glanced at one another, then with Elena, they encouraged him to describe anything else he saw. He looked reluctant enough, but after a little more pressing from Sam, Jason finally admitted that he thought he saw her eyes flash bright blue, maybe purple.

"It was probably just my nerves messing with me," he dismissed, but something in his eyes said he didn't quite believe himself.

"Okay, sir. Thanks for your help," said Sam.

"Just make sure you catch her."

* * *

><p>"What a wily bitch," Dean mused. He veered the car right on their way to the motel. "That poor guy almost got himself eaten."<p>

"But what saved him?" Elena asked. "What made her just…stop?"

"We're jumping ahead," said Sam. "First we gotta figure out _what_ she is."

It was about an hour of Sam and Elena scrolling on their respective laptops and Dean flipping through page after useless page of mythology before Sam finally found it.

"I got it," he said. "It's an empusa."

"An Em-hoo-ha?" Dean asked.

"Empusa," Elena repeated. The name sounded familiar, like she'd studied it before, but she ran a search on her own laptop anyway. "Ancient Greek mythology."

"It's a specter, believed to devour the human flesh of travelers along the road. And they could assume different forms, but more often than not chose to appear as a beautiful woman to seduce men," said Sam.

"As always," Dean said dryly. Elena rolled her eyes.

"But get this," Sam continued. "The name has also been applied to shapeshifting hobgoblins that pestered farmers in the form of a dog, ox, or mule. In this case, the dog makes sense."

"So we've got our coyote," Dean commented.

"Would explain the canine hairs on the remains," said Elena. "What's their weakness?"

"Says here that whenever a traveler addressed them with insulting words, it would literally run screaming," said Sam. "Whatever Jason yelled at her must've done the trick."

"Okay, fine. We curse the bitch out. But that still doesn't say how to kill it," said Dean. "Silver, some magic hoodoo, what? I gotta get out my blowtorch?"

"Well, they're somewhat related to Lamias, so I guess silver would be our best bet."

Dean nodded, but Elena could tell he was somewhat disappointed about the blowtorch.

"Okay, I can work with that."

* * *

><p>They waited until nightfall, naturally. Dean took the Impala, dropping Sam and Elena off at a wilder patch of land between two houses where they could hide, but still be able to watch Dean from across the road when he would circle around and drive past the bridge.<p>

"Sam, I'm still confused about something," said Elena. Sam looked over at her.

"What?"

"In Greek mythology, empusas served the goddess Hecate, known for guarding three-way crossroads."

"Yeah," Sam followed.

"But this is practically the middle of nowhere. What is it guarding?" Elena asked. Sam thought for a moment.

"I guess we'll have to find out," he said. "Dean should be coming around that corner and passing the road to the bridge pretty soon."

"Yeah…"

Sam glanced over again and caught her frown. He smiled a little.

"Don't worry. He doesn't fall _that_ easily over a pretty face." Elena shot Sam a sideways look.

"Not why I'm worried."

"You sure?"

Elena raised a brow at him.

"What are you talking about?"

Sam's smile deepened only slightly, but she caught it and frowned, feeling her face warm.

"Nothing," he said innocently. She called thirty flavors of bullshit.

"You're right though, not everything's clear," Sam agreed. "But we'll figure it out once this thing shows."

Elena nodded, though there was an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach as they watched the Impala cruising up the road. Just as he approached the bridge, a figure was there in the middle of the road. Elena blinked. They hadn't been there a second ago.

"Sam," she said tensely.

"I see her," he replied, stance relaxed but alert as he held his gun loaded with silver bullets.

Dean could see the appeal. The chick obviously fit the job description of seductress, if that was what she was calling herself. She looked him up and down with a teasing smile and wide, blue eyes under a fringe of hair that curled over her cheek.

"You need a ride?" Dean offered.

"How about some company?" she replied smoothly, voice soft yet rich. It was almost compelling. Dean smiled, then got out of the car. He pulled out his gun and pulled the hammer back.

"All right, _bitch_." Her expression immediately hardened into a frown as she took a couple steps back, hissing at him as her eyes began to glow a strange bluish color.

"I wouldn't move, unless you wanna get your ugly ass pumped full of silver," he warned. Her expression changed to one of both surprise and fear. "That's right, I know what you are. That getup ain't foolin' anyone."

The empusa glared at him and, with another hiss, turned and changed before his eyes into a wolf. Not a dog or a coyote. A _wolf_ that only got as far as a few yards before Dean shot it in the leg, making it bark in pain and stumble onto the road. He heard Sam and Elena coming behind him and looked back at them, gesturing to follow him. He ran toward the fallen creature, though it was struggling to a stand and harried stumbling across the bridge. It was probably heading for the stretch of forest area straight ahead, a New York state park. But it was in vain; with one more shot the empusa fell in a heap of fur and blood.

The streetlamps above began to buzz and…brighten. It was a loud enough sound that made him stop, and Sam and Elena stopped beside him.

"What's that?" Sam asked. Dean didn't have time to answer as all three of them were thrown back by a force that felt suspiciously like magic, all tingly and wrong. The force of it took the wind out of him, but when he was able to groan and lift his head, a beautiful woman was standing there, blonde and dressed in white. Her eyes were that same blue as the empusa's.

She looked down upon them disdainfully.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked. She looked bored, but there was fire simmering in those eyes.

"There was a time when all the world knew me and my dominion," she said. Her voice was dark and smooth.

"You're from Greece!" Elena pointed out, and accepted Dean's helping hand to stand.

"The pinnacle of Western Civilization, unfortunately, has become this continent," she said, with the same measure of disdain.

"Like in _Percy Jackson_?" Elena asked in disbelief. Dean gave her a strange look.

"You're Hecate," Sam clarified.

"I am," the goddess nodded with a dismissing waive of her hand. "Goddess of the crossroads, and you have disturbed my dominion."

"Wait, wait. This is the middle of fucking nowhere," said Dean. "Why would you camp out in one little town? Why sick your Rottweiler on these people? They've never done anything to you!"

"For all you claim to know of this world, you are still ignorant," she sneered. "Mortal men are selfish and barbaric. Cruel, creating the means to destroy the earth and sap it of its resources, only turning to nurturing means when it turns to dust in your hands."

She clenched her hand, and it was as if a force was gripping their insides with a stronghold. Straining for air and gasping with pain, they were brought to their knees on the road.

"I protect what is left, and…discourage others from coming near," said Hecate, her face twisting into a smirk. "By whatever means necessary."

_The forest, _Sam thought. _She's protecting the wildlife._

"I'm all for…going green," Dean choked out, obviously coming to the same conclusion as Sam. "But lady, you're one uppity _bitch._"

She turned to glare at him just as he raised his gun and shot her not once, but twice in the head: one between the eyes and the other an inch and a half above. Her last expression was one of shock and outrage before the light dimmed in her eyes and her arm dropped to her side. Her body swayed once, twice, then finally fell to the floor. The three hunters sagged in relief as her hold was cut off, allowing them to breathe.

"If we're lucky, she'll stay dead," Elena said wearily.

* * *

><p>"<em>Nope, you didn't kill her.<em>"

"Whaaaat," Dean whined, "Come on, Bobby, they were silver bullets! _And _we burnt the body."

"_Oh, don't get me wrong. That'll stun her for a few decades, but she can't be killed permanently with anything short of a spell I happen to have. She'll be up and running again by the time you're eighty, once all her parts find one another._"

"Great," he deadpanned, and flopped onto one of the motel beds.

"_If you had told me before you barbequed the corpse, I'd have given you the spell._"

"Yeah well, least she won't be around in our lifetime."

"_Small favors,_" said Bobby. Dean sighed.

"All right. Thanks, Bobby."

"_Yeah, yeah._" Dean hung up with a shake of his head.

"What'd he say?" Sam asked from the couch. Dean summarized the conversation for Sam and Elena, to which the latter rolled her eyes.

"Not for nothing, but I'm ready to get the hell out of Poughkeepsie," she said.

"Right there with you," Dean agreed. "Poughkeepsie. Hey, that'd make a good code word, eh Sammy?"

Sam looked amused.

"Meaning what?"

"I dunno, but it'd be good."

"'S not very inconspicuous," Elena pointed out.

"It would catch on quick though," said Dean. "Wouldn't mean squat to whoever we're with, could be good if we're trying to get away fast and throw 'em off."

She gave him a dubious look.

"Hey, that's it," he said, eyes widening with enthusiasm. "When we need a quick getaway—a, a drop everything and get the fuck out."

Sam couldn't fight a smile at Dean's expression.

"Yeah, all right," he said. "Poughkeepsie."

* * *

><p>They would go to bed early that night. Or at least Dean would. Elena was just out of the bathroom, Dean's snores filling the room, when she heard Sam's voice floating from just outside the motel door. Curious, she pressed her ear to the wood.<p>

"_...Yeah, it's me_," she heard Sam laugh a bit, that slightly nervous laugh that said he was trying to be chill. "_Um…I actually just finished a case…I'm leaving Poughkeepsie._"

_Who the hell is he calling this late? _Elena wondered.

"_Uh…I don't think we'll have time to come by_," he said. "_But…I know, I'm sorry…it's good to hear your voice too…maybe I will._"

There was a smile in his voice, she could tell. But she scurried to her bed as his voice got closer to the door. She didn't want to be caught eavesdropping when he walked back in. Tucked in bed, Elena just caught the ending of the conversation and smiled to herself.

"_All right. I'll…I'll call you_," Sam promised. "_Bye, Sarah._"


End file.
